The Resurrected
by Merlynne
Summary: During negotiations for slaving rights, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan uncover a cloning conspiracy that eventually leads to the demise of the Old Republic. Pre-TPM. Updated.
1. A Noble Cause

A Noble Cause 

Title: The Resurrected  
  
Author: Merlynne  
  
Catagory: Old Republic  
  
Keywords: Clone  
  
Spoilers: Jedi Apprentice Series  
  
Rating: R for language and violence  
  
Summary: Obi-Wan is sent to Bonadan to assist in negotiations between the wealthy native slavers and offworld abolitionists, and inadvertantly becomes entangled in the affairs of the local Jedi Healers. Qui-Gon soon follows, and together they stumble upon a sinister conspiracy that far exceeds the slavery dilemma.   
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Lucasfilm, Ltd. No money is being made and no infringement is intended. ;)  
  
Author's Note: It's a long one, but hang in there. I hope the end is redemptive.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
+++++THE RESURRECTED+++++  
  
  
  
  
  
+++++PROLOGUE+++++  
  
The man with the raven robe gathered his things quickly when the high rise began to sway again. "Those idiots", the Bondani political leader whispered to himself as he glanced down to the bright flash of an explosion below. He had to admit, things were out of his control now, and the best he could do was to flee. He had held onto this planet for as long as he possibly could, and now he had to think about himself. The two Republican representatives along with the Jedi, had just left his offices also seeking transport off planet.   
  
But now, it seemed there was another presence lurking in the inky shadows of his office.   
  
Ceasing all movement, the shuffle of his silken robe draped along his broad shoulders hung still for a moment as he listened. An unexpected draft ruffled the ornamental feathers that fanned out from his 15th century high arched collar. He spun around; the double doors must have been left open when his uninvited guests abandoned him.   
  
Wasting no more time on anxious thoughts, he strode to his desk and sat down, giving one last look to the office he would leave behind.   
  
But there was something different. A small potted plant balanced on the edge of his desk. He plucked the card from the tropical foliage, one eye suspiciously scanning the blue hues of the room as he read.   
  
The color instantly drained from his face and he sunk back into his plush leather chair. Perfectly still, his eyes followed the shadow that crept from the corner of the room.   
  
This is for the Simmians, was all she said before the Governor slumped over, a trail of blood drizzling from the corner of his mouth.   
  
  
  
  
+++++PREFACE+++++  
  
The Republic was reaching its last years of hegemony in the galaxy. Divided over the ethical parameters of slavery, the Senate struggled to maintain its authority as systems threaten secession. As protectorates of the peace, the Jedi were interspersed throughout the galaxy to facilitate negotiations between opposing parties as well a maintain order throughout the chaotic era.  
  
  
+++++CHAPTER 1+++++  
A Noble Cause  
  
  
  
+++++Walkar, Bonadan  
The Governor's Palace  
Two Months Earlier+++++  
  
  
The governor let his eyes wander over Walkar from the comfort of his office spanning the penthouse parlor and the three floors below. The long traditional black robe exemplified his stature and among his twenty-five long years here he'd grown used to its weight.  
Allowing his mind to wander, he thought back to the time when Walkar was an inland sea to be dried up over centuries, leaving no mark of itself except the salty barren emptiness. His eyes paused momentarily on the craggy mountains far out in the distant east, jutting out like a broken bone over miles of smooth plains. Pock marked and ugly from the surface, beneath lied a treasure trove of undepleting splendor. The mines brought continuous wealth to this planet, but its bounty would never had been discovered if it weren't for that mass of earth cracking open with ripeness for the taking. His line of Bondani had known since then how best to harness the many treasures this land had to offer.   
  
His own impression on the land, however, was far more beautiful and fruitful than the sooty depths of the mines.   
  
'Look at Walkar flourish.' His chin lifted a little as a sense of pride tingled throughout his veins seeing the dozens of formidable high rises blossom from every corner of the metropolis. Tlaska, Quism, Link, Montague, Relvaire. He grew where none could, and they dare tell him that it isn't right? The Simmians, native to this planet, were conquered, and just like any other conquered race, they were forced into submission, vanquished. Others may annihilate, but Bondani preserved and their people had lived together in peace for centuries.  
  
Outsiders were usually welcomed here, often bringing profitable business, and while the Republic had, up to this point, benefited from Bonadan's economic wealth, they would not be welcome here any longer.  
  
Governor M'ztka, Senator Din on Coruscant is waiting on view screen A. The assistant had slithered in unnoticed and awaited orders to connect the transmission, but found the governor unresponding, distracted by the momentary rush of pink in the usually bleak overcast sky. After a short lapse, the sky melded back into a deep gray and the skyline began to buzz with illumination as the city prepared for the oncoming of night.  
  
The Bondani will not surrender, he whispered under his breath.  
  
  
  
Senator Din is right. Svil, proceed as planned. The Senate means only to crush that which we have struggled to preserve.   
  
  
  
+++++Walkar, Bonadan  
Centrally Sponsored Clinic+++++  
  
  
The white clad healer trudged back the two mile journey from the Lepkaum housing facility having failed her task. Instead, a honey colored beveled jewel fogged over in the warm moisture of her palm, the chain half crumpled and dangling.  
  
Reviewing the events of the last few hours, she missed the post that designated the outskirts of Walkar as time had buried it amidst the long yellowish grasses of the moors.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Nu-shutka ki'ki cot, Marta. The words of sympathy could not ease the mother's pain as her third child passed away in less than a month. The explosion in the manufacturing district of Walkar claimed thousands of laborer's lives when the aluminum fluoride chamber sprung a leak, emitting the corrosive gas which then mixed with the air in the ventilating system. While the adults were able to somewhat withstand the tissue damage, the children's still developing lungs burned to the core.   
  
She'd traveled all this way, and yet Marta would not accept her daughter's few belongings. Hollow, the Simmian slave resounded, The other children need me... and head drooping, the mother shuffled out.   
  
The Healer watched her go, powerless against their powerlessness, drained to the point of apathy. For a long while, she made no effort to move until a guard ordered her out.  
  
  
*****  
  
The healer rubbed her shoulder where the Gammorean Boar jabbed the end of his gaffer stick. The clinic finally came into sight and she hastened her pace to end the monotonous, wasted trip. Slugging up the couple of steps to the clinic's main entrance, she shuffled her loosely laced boots across the dirty welcome mat. Glancing aside, she happened to notice the purple and orange azaleas in the two large pots flanking the entrance were looking a little droopy. Making a mental note to give them some care, she tapped in the entrance code and the door whooshed open.   
  
The check-in counter was abandoned as usual, but as she crossed the short reception hall, the patient residence came into sight. The chronically ill mostly slept, awakening every now and then for treatment, and all looked peaceful from behind the plexiglass sheeting. Bisected by the fresher facility, the children's ward extended beyond the other half.   
  
Slipping in, she summoned up her last ounce of sincerity to smile at Li'Tala, a six year old whose nimble fingers ornamented fine crystal.   
  
Has my father... come asking for me... today? she wheezed with a smile.  
  
Yes, he came while you were asleep and left you something. Eyes widened, and the Healer pulled a crystal amulet from behind the little Simmian girl's inverted ear.   
  
Kissing the rock, her glassy eyes sparkled as the Healer stole away, a thief.  
  
  
  
+++++Coruscant  
Senate Building+++++  
  
  
Chancellor Vallorum's right hand man restated the motion. A proposal has been made to allocate $200 billion credits for the development of cloning technology. Please respond now.   
  
Senator Mon Mothma absent-mindedly punched in her e-vote for Chandrila, distracted in her preparation of today's formal address. With clammy hands, she diligently reviewed her detailed notes. Rolling her head from the side to side to ease the tension, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.   
  
Motion passed. Next on the agenda. Senator Mon Mothma speaks on behalf of the OASR.   
  
Your up, Senator, her assistant interrupted.  
  
The hover base floated to the center of the hall as gentle as a breeze. Gathering herself, she felt the eager eyes of the many systems that had chosen her to forefront this heated movement.   
  
As many of you know, the Republic has a unperiled legal system which entails specific laws regarding slavery. However, many planets are allowed to subsist reaping the many benefits of the Republic's bounty, and yet refuse to abide by the guidelines set forth by the initial charter....  
  
  
*  
  
Qui-Gon listened serenely from the box seats at the top of the arena as Mon Mothma went on arguing for the abolition of slavery. As the issue was swept under the table by powerful corporations who needed the free labor, Mon Mothma, and many other core system worlds, founded the Organization for the Abolition of Slavery in the Republic or the OASR. Qui-Gon had been instructed to shadow the popular Senator and assist in creating a peaceful solution to the crisis at hand. Encouraged by Mon Mothma's wholesome leadership, Qui-Gon felt assured she would do all her in power to find a realistic and positive alternative to slavery. However, he also realized that the fear of change often led men to drastic measures, and while he hoped for a tidy resolution, he could not fathom such. The characters involved in this fight are too stubborn, he sighed inwardly and turned his attention back to the address.   
  
  
  
+++++Coruscant  
Jedi Temple+++++  
  
  
Obi-Wan Kenobi rewound the video archive to log 28B71X. Through viper like accusations, Din, Senator of Bonadan, threatened the whole of the Senate with secession should they attempt to enforce the anti-slavery laws. We already pay the highest tariffs imposed on any system! Our goods form the base of your economies. Your systems cannot afford to drop us from the chain. The Senate rumbled with supporters and opposition like a maddened crowd.   
  
The dark skinned Mace Windu paused the holo and explained, Although the Jedi Council detests slavery, Bonadan cannot be allowed to secede. The Republic would crumble from the inside and many people would suffer from the economic collapse. The Senate has begun negotiations and has requested official mediation. Qui-Gon will design a proposal with the OASR on Alderaan while you go to Bonadan. He will then regroup with you in a couple weeks to make the offer.  
  
Exhibit caution, Obi-Wan, this may be the beginning of the end for peace in the Republic, Ki Adi Mundi advised soberly.  
  
This note, though, Yoda held up one of his three green fingers. Dictates the Code that cannot we support or oppose any measure not ratified by the majority of the Senate. Delay secession you must, and that is all.  
  
Bowing, Mace sent Obi-Wan out saying, May the Force be with you.  
  
  
  
+++++Bonadan  
Clinic+++++  
  
  
O that this too too solid flesh would melt,  
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew  
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed   
His canon gainst self slaughter.  
  
  
Elia exhaled from her depths, a long exaggerated sigh.  
  
Be thankful you still feel .... that you haven't become numb to it all.   
  
Close friends, Thaum and Elia had been plucked from their few short years at the Facility for Healer Enhancement to tend to the people of Bonadan, a planet profiting from the exploitation of the slave trade. Both having been hidden away on small isolated systems, each had recognized their strange gifts and abandoned family and home to fulfill whatever design the universe had planned for them. Arriving much older than the other candidates who had been selected among the Temple's elite Jedi, the two instantly connected and freely shared their knowledge and unique abilities.   
  
The long lashed blue eyes of the pale skinned Filipian intended to calm, but when his companion looked into them, she only saw the weepy image of herself. I gave away Marta's daughter's crystal amulet, she confessed.  
  
The truth revealed, Thaum gave his friend time to vent.   
  
And Li'Tala asked again today if her papa would visit. I couldn't tell her no yet again. So I lied and told her he had left the amulet for her.  
  
Reaching out his milky hand, he comforted her, empathetic to her situation.   
  
Thankful for the calm accepting, she continued to verbalize her feelings as justification to herself that the action was more humane than the reality. Some of these parents don't even bother; they may as well be dead. But the children always have hope, believing in their parents when they don't even believe in themselves.  
  
Marta's daughter believed in the amulet as if it held some magical property, though all Marta could see was the sick product of child labor. Breathing deeply, she sought to calm the overflowing resentment for the system that allowed the continuation of this kind of lifestyle. We've been here six years now, and I thought I could assimilate.  
  
We are not meant to sacrifice our spirits. Our healing gifts preserve through the manifestation of hope. He rose, kissing her gently on the forehead. Believe, Elia. We cannot afford to be like them- broken. Let's go.  
  
Plopping her heavy feet back onto the corded floor, they slipped down the healer's private residence hall to the conference room in the common area.  
  
As the rest of the team of six Healers took their place around the semi circular table, the Angel, Ruebyn, the appointed Council Liaison, began. Jedi Master Li'sarrow, our devoted teacher, would like to make an announcement. The solemnity in her voice spurned apprehension, but the Jedi Healers exhibited patience as was taught.   
  
A fuzzy blue figure materialized in the center of the half moon table dressed in a lengthy white tunic and simple drawstring pants- classic Healer attire. As if each held a special place in her heart, the Master Healer acknowledged each student. Thank you, Ruebyn.   
  
My Tetre, not so long since I've seen you last on Coruscant. My Meerpa, you're not pestering poor Tetre too much now, are you? My Thaum, I'd like to hear how your garden is coming along. My Amelia, no need to brood. My Kiana, focus.  
  
Each student smiled, briefly missing the comfort of her guidance, and when she asked Ruebyn how things were progressing on Bonadan, each would have liked to have given their own opinion, but Ruebyn answered as positively as could be allowed.   
Master Li'sarrow, the factories are careless with their machinery and workers. Tragedy is frequent. We feel for the Simmians.  
  
All the more reason to remain alert. I know our position limits our involvement to effectively alter existing social systems, but you must remain patient.   
  
You are aware of the Anti-Slavery Movement headed by the Core Worlds Alderaan and Chandrila?   
  
Nodding excitedly, the listener's ears suddenly perked up and eyes widened with hope. Would the Senate finally impose the anti-slavery laws?  
  
  
  
+++++Coruscant  
Jedi Temple+++++  
  
  
Paying a final visit to Qui-Gon before his departure to Bonadan, Obi-Wan whizzed up and about the familiar halls within the Jedi Temple. Double checking the contents of his duffel, Qui-Gon paused momentarily to advise his long time apprentice. Times are desperate, leaving men to do what otherwise they would not. This is an enormous challenge Yoda entrusts you with, yet one man alone cannot hold the galaxy in balance as some may believe. The master firmly squeezed the shoulder of his padawan imploring him to be cautious of the danger awaiting. Sincerity beaming in his master's touch, Obi-Wan sensed this mission would be far more precarious than he had originally predicted. Drawing in the Force, he mentally prepared himself for whatever may come. I will be wary, Master.  
  
Mmm. Make contact when you reach your destination. Agreeing, they went their separate ways.  
  
  
  
  
+++++Walkar, Bonadan  
The Governor's Palace+++++  
  
  
Fearing Bonadan's secession from the Republic, the Senate took renewed interest in their state of affairs, postponing the vote to enforce the anti-slavery laws already in effect in the majority of member worlds. Thus, a committee was appointed by the Chancellor to explore the options for compromise.  
  
Welcome once again to Bonadan. My staff and I are pleased you'll be staying with us. Let me introduce myself. I am M'ztka, governor of this region. He bowed formally at the two guests who returned the gesture. As he stood, the black feathers that darted outwards from a fanning collar, bounced lightly from the movement. He was an older gentleman, dignified and wrinkled, and yet distinctly Bondani. Humanoids, native Bondani were completely covered in a short iridescent fuzz that required constant grooming. The face, the only region that remained free of this feature, maintained an oily shine that reflected light in a translucent glow. The chiaroscuro effect created by these definitive high contrast colors lent M'ztka an austere yet prepossessing mien.   
  
Handing off their bags to the concierge, Kiltma, the Chancellor's hand picked representative for negotiations, offered his gratitude while his counterpart, Chlak, nodded eagerly. The Chancellor extends his greetings. I know we will be able to resolve this issue in a manner such that all parties are satisfied....  
  
M'ztka hardly listened as Vallorum's messenger spat out formal frivolities. Summing up the two new adversaries, he compared them to a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, incompetent, ineffectual sycophants who were too pretentious to see how easily manipulated they were. Annoyance rose in the governor that Chancellor Vallorum should send such idiots merely to pacify him. It was obvious these two minor inconveniences would eventually have to be eliminated but in the meantime and for the sake of his investors, he would have to tolerate their presence.  
  
Kiltma smoothed down his lapels and fidgeted with his dimpled hands, kneading them over and over as he blundered on. Occasionally, pink cheeked Chlak would throw in a comment or two, but it was patent who the leader of this pair was. Kiltma had a pig like nose and a belly to match that nearly made him as wide as tall. Two bulbous masses like fleshy horns parted the center of his head, yielding a heart shaped silhouette. Only recently had he been promoted to this special assignment working directly under the Chancellor- or very nearly to anyway. Palpatine, Senator of Naboo, was his direct superior, but that was inconsequential.  
  
Kiltma was proud the Chancellor had noticed his keen skills with people and had only to wait patiently for the day his wisdom would be recognized throughout the Republic. Each interaction was crucial, he understood, and therefore poured out his gratitude to his new client, hoping a little flattery would break down any initial barriers.  
  
Stretching out a smile with some degree of effort, M'ztka's tolerance grew thin and politely holding up his hand, he interrupted, You are far too kind, gentle sir. We are assured your stay here will be a pleasant one and have therefore planned an exquisite tour of our dazzling city. We have only a few more moments to wait for our two other honored guests to arrive. In the meanwhile, please settle into your rooms and let my people know if there is anything we can do to best serve you.  
  
Bowing out, M'ztka exited nobly, heels clicking and robes flying as two assistants flanked him and followed him out. True royalty, Kiltma sighed enviously, but quickly corrected himself at his good fortune as four assistants greeted them.  
  
  
  
+++++Alderaan  
Folklorum+++++  
  
  
After weeks of debating, the motion to enforce the slavery laws was put on hold due to the unexpected reaction of a prosperous mining and manufacturing planet called Bonadan. As expected, the furious supporters of the OASR convened to plan a counterattack, and Qui-Gon was there to make certain their plan was peaceful, yet viable.  
  
Senator Mon Mothma stood before the group in her formal attire commanding the attention of the crowd with each word. Chancellor Vallorum has created a committee to address our situation, headed by Senator Palpatine, who has recently dispatched two representatives to discuss our options, one being our peer, Chlak, from Sullust. The other, Kiltma, comes highly recommended from the Senator.  
  
And how did Palpatine earn this honor? A member spoke up, obviously dissatisfied with the popular senator's involvement.  
  
Unlike many others, he volunteered, and the Chancellor agreed, Mon Mothma answered rather accusatorially.  
  
The speaker slumped in his seat and tapped out a nervous rhythm with a pen, sulking.  
  
Moving on, Mon Mothma returned her attention to the thirty-some members that formed the core of the OASR. One week from now, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn will journey to Bonadan to offer a proposal for alternatives. As we speak, his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi is meeting with M'ztka, the planetary governor, in attempt to reach compromise. Since it is obvious we cannot sway our peers on moral grounds, we therefore must be able to offer them a profitable alternative.  
  
Glancing over to another member of the crowd, she announced, Senator Cato Antilles and I would like to fund a project to replace slaves with droids. It will be costly endeavor to us, but if larger systems like Chukl and Huab agree to charter the initiative, smaller systems may fall into line.  
  
Why not Chandrila or Alderaan?  
  
Palpatine believes suspicion may be aroused if an OASR world charters the initiative. Therefore we've offered to pay for the transition to take place on other planets.  
  
Senator Cato Antilles of Alderaan now stood, his bulk intimidating and voice booming. We'll need support though, more than we've got now... And as he began to lay out the plan in detail, Qui-Gon reflected on how this news would be received by the slaving systems and just how profitable it would have to be to convince companies to convert. However, it was certainly more realistic than fitting an embargo on the hundreds of systems that still used slavery as their primary labor force. The economy would buckle, and the OASR would soon lose all their funding and support, for no one could afford to lose the business. It was a grim prospect, he realized, and yet he felt compelled to support the OASR nevertheless. The contradictions within the Republic had long irked him, but a compromise seemed a long way off. He hoped his apprentice en route to Bonadan fared better than he.  
  
  
  
+++++Walkar, Bonadan  
The Governor's Palace+++++  
  
  
What time is it? Trafalgar demanded as he stepped into the luxury shuttle. Uninterested in the answer, he relaxed into a comfortable recline, resolving the notable entrance would be best for the first meeting anyhow. The young man ran his fingers through his loose, light brown hair and sunk back into the leather, spreading his knees out comfortably.   
  
The Governor had requested his father's presence at the negotiations, who had then pawned the job off onto him. If there had been an option to decline, he would have, but his father insisted, It is critical to protect our investments. And besides, he added, you spend most of your time in Walkar anyway, gambling away the nights and womanizing. It's about time you took some interest in the family business.  
  
His father had not complained much since he'd taken a penthouse parlor in the prestigious Celia district and thought he owed it to him to do this minute favor- considering the company was supporting his lifestyle.   
  
And now he was on his way to the Governor's Palace.  
  
As he neared the landing platform, he noticed a small entourage waiting for him. The unfamiliar eyes summed him up as he stepped from the luxury shuttle and greeted the group. M'ztka smiled pleasantly and threw his arm around him as if they were old time pals. Whispering harshly at his tardiness, he presented his esteemed guest. This is our Corporate Sector representative. His family owns Tlaska, a multitiered engineering firm, and certainly one of our finest. Trafalgar, meet Kiltma and Chlak, honored guests commissioned by the Chancellor himself, and of course, here comes Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.  
  
Escorted by two assistants, the Jedi had been rushed to the meeting directly from the spaceport without time to refresh from his long journey. Instead, they had taken away his bags and lead him here. His brown robe fluttered in the rush of air traffic, but he seldom noticed it as his concentration was fixed on the men before him. All were professionally clad, except the youngest, who appeared to have no officiating title by the look of his trendy clothing.   
  
Inconspicuously feeling each other out, the group made introductions once again, then ambled up the ramp to the Governor's waiting shuttle.   
  
A droid was immediately called to offer drinks. Now, plagued with the obligation of small talk, the members circulated amongst themselves commenting briskly on the fair weather or regal accommodations.  
  
Trafalgar, the unlikely politician, immediately opted for an isolated seat near a long window. After quickly dosing himself with a drink or two, he visibly loosened up and called over to Obi-Wan with a, and casual flip of the wrist.   
  
Obi-Wan arched his eyebrow and slowly ambled over, none too quick after such a tactless call. Examining the foreign features of the lanky humanoid, the Jedi studied the weblike diamonds etched along his widow's peak. He summed up that they were simply a mark of pretension and whimsy of wealth.   
  
Towering over the boy slumped in the oval chair, Obi-Wan peered down at him with an intimidating glare, arms folded across his chest. Unfettered, Trafalgar nodded to the matching chair next to him and swallowed another shot. Obi-Wan glanced over to the seat and paused, unsure of whether or not it was a very good idea to bother with this obviously ludicrous character. But when he glimpsed back at the Governor, Kiltma, and Chlak flashing those ridiculously fabricated smiles, he settled for the lesser of the two evils. At this one was honest about who he is, he thought to himself. He found the oversized cushion far too broad to sit in comfortably, and so kept to the edge of his seat maintaining an erect posture just to shake a finger at Trafalgar's slovenly demeanor.   
  
So what are your stakes in this game? the young man finally said, sitting up out of his slump and running his fingers through his unruly hair. The Jedi found the style odd, but fitting. The tanned Mandalorian's unkempt hair hung no lower than his hairline, but the top was long and feminine, and he swept it back with a little too much grace, Obi-Wan noticed. It was a combination of these mannerisms that led him to believe Trafalgar came from inherited money, as opposed to the kind that is actually earned.  
  
Humoring his counterpart, Obi-Wan took his time in answering the idiotic question.  
  
I do not consider this situation a game.  
  
The lad replied with a and pulled out a cigar. Probably laced with Kesselian spice, Obi-Wan surmised, appalled by the parody of it all. Although Trafalgar neared him in age, he immediately recognized the gap in maturity. The humanoid's expensive ornate jewelry and opulent fabrics revealed him to be no stranger to wealth. In fact, it seemed to Obi-Wan that members of the upper echelons of society, like Trafalgar, were so used to getting their own way, compromise did not phase their vocabulary. Peace talks, he predicted, would be long and drawn out. He wondered, though, why this one in particular had been chosen to participate in the talks for he certainly did not seem to have much enthusiasm for his presence here.   
When there was no response, Obi-Wan mimicked the question back. So what's to be won on your part from this GAME?  
  
That would be the question of the hour, wouldn't it? Trafalgar sat back in his chair, chewing the end of his cigar enigmatically. Clenching his fists, Obi-Wan refused to be angered by the spoiled stranger.  
  
When the serving droid made his rounds again, Trafalgar, knowing little of the Jedi other than their holistic inclinations, made it a point to tempt the peer. You know it's impolite not to accept a drink when offered.  
  
Obi-Wan had only been here for an hour and someone was already unbearably under his skin.   
  
Water, please.   
  
Although he snickered, Trafalgar unexpectedly extended his arm in a gesture of peace. Obi-Wan tapped the top of his hand as he had been instructed to do in his briefing before departure. Ironically, the handsome, defined jaw of the Mandalorian broke into a smile.   
  
Blessedly, the governor broke in here. Tonight we dine and make merry.  
  
Leading them out of the shuttle, the five characters tumbled out onto a red carpet runway that led to a bustling restaurant. Obi-Wan worried that M'ztka had invited the entirety of his planet to this social gathering when the team of Mandalorian body guards had to push back a crowd of incensed citizens. He was unable to hear what they were shouting however, as they were efficiently shuffled into the building. Greeted by a professional maitre'd, they were lead to a private floor overlooking a gilded stage.  
  
Obi-Wan fell rigidly into his plush chair, annoyed by the wandering hands of the servants that buzzed about. Pressing his lips together tightly, he shifted in his seat trying to achieve some degree of comfort, but none was forthcoming. On the other hand, Kiltma and Chlak, dazzled by the show, settled in nicely and kept the conversation generated with admiration for such frivolities. While the others chuckled amongst themselves, Obi-Wan did little to divert his hard, disapproving gaze, nor mitigate the edge on his curt comments when asked if the accommodations were satisfactory.   
  
Trafalgar, although seemingly comfortable in any environment, picked up on Obi-Wan's irritation and sympathized with the peer. Speaking to him softly as the other three rambled on, he explained the unique social phenomenon with intriguing insight. You see this is what they do.... feel each other out as the brew takes them. M'ztka wants to know how much its going to cost him...   
  
A Simmian woman eased up on Trafalgar with a case of rolled cigars and he took his time in choosing one, interested in more than just the cigars. Obi-Wan looked away, putting his hand up to his lips. If this was the heart of diplomacy, he wondered how long it would take before it died of debauchery and disease. How he withstood such missions baffled him; and he sorely missed Qui-Gon who could shape any banal situation into an interesting lesson of the Force.   
  
....and by the looks of it, it is going to be expensive. Once again assuming the stance of voyeur, Trafalgar picked up where he left off, lighting his cigar and motioning to the three who had just ordered another round of delicacies.  
  
Another band of scantily clad women strolled in and presented a course of hors d'ourves and drinks. Their gluttonous eyes twinkled with delight, their eagerness twitching at their fingertips at the sight of such treats. M'ztka's efforts, though completely inappropriate, almost seemed logical as Obi-Wan worked through the man's reasoning whilst Trafalgar narrated.   
  
Just wait. He'll have them talking in no time. That underhanded son of a bitch is quite skillful. Look at him. Over the period of a couple hours, Obi-Wan noticed the initial whispered astonishment increase in volume and politely restrained limbs loosened to broad sweeping gestures. Faces now flushed with pink, they tugged at their collars and told ridiculous tales that, to them, must have seemed hysterical for they were quite entertained by the whole event. Even Trafalgar found some entertainment in this part, occasionally stifling a giggle.   
  
The point of this absurd revelry, Obi-Wan concluded, was intended not simply as an icebreaker, but an effort to extract any slip of the tongue from the all too comfortable antagonists. Yet when his brooding scowl seemed permanently transfixed on his face, the theater lights dimmed and the curtain mercily rose.  
  
  
  
+++++Walkar  
Governor's Palace+++++  
  
  
Even before Obi-Wan had bothered to unpack his opened duffel strewn on the bed before him, he contacted Qui-Gon who had reached Alderaan two days ago to report his initial reactions. Exploring the spacious two bedroom suite, Obi-Wan made himself comfortable in the personal com room where a life-sized view screen and overstuffed couch accommodated his only current needs.   
  
We've wasted over five hours together and not one single word about slavery.  
  
This is where the Governor will get a feel for you; he's testing each of you to ascertain where your true commitments lie. How are the Chancellor's ambassador's working out?  
  
The two fellows, Kiltma and Chlak, are clumsy, verging on idiocy; I wonder how much experience they have dealing with characters such as these. There's another one though, one of Walkar's corporate investors that I am most concerned about. I am uncertain as to just why he in particular was selected to participate, as he doesn't seem to either enjoy being there nor be in good standing with the Governor.  
  
Keep tabs on him; he may pose a problem later. What of the others?  
Tomorrow we meet with the rest of the investors. I must say I haven't seen much support for the abolitionists....  
  
No, on a planet like Bonadan you wouldn't. Slaves are not permitted a voice, regardless that their race dominates all the others by more than 60%. Those who might otherwise support the anti-slavery movement are most probably considered dissenters and unpatriotic, and therefore say nothing.  
  
It is a difficult task with which you are entrusted. Remain objective, padawan. Do not let your personal feelings interfere.  
  
Nodding in acquiescence, he reminded himself how critical this was, no matter what he thought, and made a firm decision not to judge prematurely.  
What news have you from Alderaan?  
  
They underestimate the value of money and are quick to presume a solution will be achieved soon and peacefully. There are many systems who have high stakes in this game and I fear hasty judgments may backfire.  
  
I will be out in a short while. In the meantime, remain attentive and do not allow the situation to escalate. You know where to reach me if you need me. The image faded out of the screen. Obi-Wan remained seated for a few moments before rising to unpack the mess.  
  
  
  
+++++Walkar  
Clinic+++++  
  
  
The healers finished up their weekly communication with Master Li'sarrow, when she asked specifically to speak with Amelia. Healer Elia, there is a matter in which I would like to address with you privately, Li'sarrow closed as the others filed out. Ruebyn, however, did not leave but looked down, shifting around piles of holodisks. Amelia swallowed drily and glanced up at her departing compatriots who purposely avoided her gaze and saved their comments until they reached the door. Unhitching her hands from the sides of her seat, she stumbled to a closer chair.   
  
So what's the verdict? Amelia inquired, forcing herself to raise her chin and meet her mentor's gaze head on even though her clammy hands steamed against the cold polished table.  
  
Li'sarrow's eyes studied her gravely, and while the learner attempted to return the intensity, she found herself unable to do so. Blinking towards Ruebyn, then past the blue holo image, her thoughts became consumed in the events of last week and how she should justify herself and her actions in light of the final, unexpected outcome.  
You did what you had to do, she spoke softly, her tone suddenly changing. Elia's eyes closed momentarily and a heavy sigh escaped her soul.   
  
Li'sarrow went on, you must be prepared to accept the consequences. Ruebyn transmitted the recording that ran on the holonet, and Relvaire's lawyers have already been in contact with us. Currently losing her breath, chills ran down her spine as if she were ten years old and caught stealing; fear washed over her, lumping in her throat. Li'sarrow knew her too well to believe the holonet, but did she understand the truth? Perhaps the truth was inconsequential in light of the accusations.  
  
You will redeem yourself and be light to the Simmians.  
  
Although her chin remained up, Elia's eyes darted down into the reflection on the glassy onyx table, confused by Li'sarrow's enigmatic statement. Jaws clenched, she expected her Master to say more or at least clarify, but the issue was abandoned.  
Without a formal closing, Li'sarrow turned to Ruebyn releasing Amelia from the holding gaze. After an infinite pause, Elia understood the reprimand was over and made to leave the room.  
  
Expectantly, the healer hurried back to the miniature holo. Bowing stiffly, she clenched her hands out at her sides and commanded herself to cease chewing her bottom lip.  
  
Practice the exercises I taught you when you go.  
  
Elia whipped air into her lungs in surprise; Li'sarrow had this mysterious habit of verbalizing her thoughts before she even had a chance to think them. Internalizing her annoyance at her master's innate understanding, she bowed out and exited the common area.  
  
Ruebyn, go to M'ztka and tell him you are sending one of ours.  
  
  
  
+++++ Bonadan, the moors outside Walkar  
An hour later... +++++  
  
  
Amelia shouldered a tightly packed bag and buckled the straps. Slipping out the back door, she entered the night intent on plowing through. Her demons trailed behind in little mirages of last week's episode, constantly pestering her along the journey.   
  
Tonight she would hunt.  
  
What does M'Li'sarrow mean I will be light to the Simmians? she thought aloud. I am the bringer of death! And what good is light to a people who live in the dark underground? Her soul grumbled along the way until thoughts finally gave way to nothing but feelings.   
  
The Dathomirian native kept a steady pace over the slight variations in the grass covered wasteland, pounding the earth in her path. Two hours out and the familiar trail forked left or right. Without hesitation or consideration, she moved straight through the seam.  
  
Focus shifting, she directed the acuity of her senses to the land. The ever-present cloud cover diluted the four moons light into an odd glow, sufficient for her purposes, yet demanding her keen attention. Penetrating the bleakness, her rhythm throbbed easily with the Force and the mental exercises Li'sarrow instructed were achieved effortlessly.  
  
But just as she was upon the threshold of balance, she sensed her game; a pack of eight canine hunters, Selves, closed in on her. Their pelts made for warm clothing, and the meat was well worth the fight, but these reasons did not justify the hunt.   
  
When Elia found herself in a tight spot, it was simpler to revert to her roots. The Living Force beckoned her into its grasp, perhaps to reveal some long forgotten message to bring back to humanity or more simply, to help her find peace. Mostly undeveloped forests and mountains, Dathomir remained close to her heart, and although she knew she would never live there again, she missed its native unfabricated health. Unlike Bonadan, literally exploited to the very core, her home planet taught her to revere nature in its duality of both beauty and horror.   
  
Leonora, her foster mother, taught her the traditional ways of a people who had thrived alongside nature, as opposed to conquering it. While it did have its share of metropolises, strict laws protected the planet from outside influence, closing its doors to Over thousands of generations, the witches of Dathomir as they were called, became an isolated society of Force sensitive women upon which many speculated due to their mysterious habits and traditions.  
  
The hunt was a tradition she'd never allow to be diluted, for, at it most basic, it linked her to the very core of life itself. And when she no longer felt as if life was worth the pursuit, the hunt would remind her that such was not a choice, but an honor of duty to fulfill one's role in the grand scheme of it all- sweet or bloody.   
  
The Selves remained distant, their tanny beige coats blending with the moonlit landscape like ghosts. Spreading out across the expanse, they shaped a loose ring around her, and once in a while she would see a silhouette pop up over the horizon on a small slope before it ducked back down. They did not howl or make any sound, but crept along beside her for some time testing her stamina, or perhaps waiting for her to falter. But the deeper into the expanse she traveled, the more focused she became, as if somewhere back a few miles, she lost those guilt guiding demons and the burden of their weight had disappeared into the night. Her Force senses, primal and essentially simplistic, lead her on fearlessly and patiently, preparing her for the imminent attack by the Selves.   
  
Night swept the moors with its long black broom, polishing the horizon with a shimmering reflection of apparitions. Too late to recall the sun's evening shades, all hope of morning was diminished when five wolves closed in on their prey. They eased from the illusion slowly, as if informing the girl of their intentions.   
  
Keeping her pace, she changed direction. It was critical she attacked the right one: the leader, the female. The others would cower if their leader faulted. The Dathomirian honed her acquired senses, listening to the movement surround her.   
  
Taken off guard, the pack ceased their advance and returned to tracking, careful to remain an equal distance away. The leader, she knew, would be the first to make an aggressive move, so she watched closely which among the five would move in first.  
  
Ten minutes later, a specked female crawled forward, her bulk leaning forward as if to show off her size. Creeping towards Elia, who continued moving onward despite the show, the Selve leader motioned the others to do the same.   
  
Before they could get any closer, Elia dropped her sack and broke into a run towards the leader, elongating the distance between the her and the others. Instantaneously, the leader stretched out her limbs in long efficient strides eager to take her kill.   
  
  
  
+++++This is my first fic, so please be nice! Constructive criticism welcome.+++++


	2. Unlikely Participants

Unlikely Participants 

+++++++++++++++++  
Walkar, The Governor's Palace  
The following day...   
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
A parade of sky vehicles formed a long line outside the landing platform to the Governor's Palace as negotiations were to begin. Although he couldn't see it, way down below supporters had amassed to encourage independence by waving flags and shouting, We'll pay the tax! Get off our backs! Chucking at the damned irony of it all, he straightened his robe and prepared to greet his guests.  
  
At the door, he nearly ran into his assistant. Bad news, sir.  
  
What is it? he roared.  
  
The Healers. Forcing out a heavy breath, he clenched his fists and stomped out of his office toward the lift. Where are they? It's probably that angelic little whore, Ruebyn, he muttered.  
  
On the way down, M'ztka reminded himself that patience would reap greater reward in the future. Like money in the bank or interest, he thought.   
  
Why do the gods torment me with such pestilence? he verbalized as the two exited to the main receiving hall.  
  
Instantly he was confronted with an onslaught of attention from the gathered guests. Yes, thank you for coming. So nice to see you... etc.... were exchanged as he touched hands with the investors, trying to inconspicuously weave his way through the crowd to a side door. Thankfully, the loudspeaker announced it was time to begin and the hoard wandered to the conference hall.  
  
Slipping in silently and making certain the door was locked behind him, he greeted the lone Healer with annoyed sarcasm. I see you've come to support our thriving planet.  
  
Ruebyn rose to the challenge, As a matter of fact, I have. I've come to represent the Simmians.  
  
We already have an OASR affiliate, he snapped smugly, one step ahead of her.   
  
Surprised that he'd allow that much, Ruebyn suggested a different route. Observance only then.  
  
I'm sorry, it's by invitation only.  
  
We could request official presence by the Council in which you'll be required to report.  
  
Fine. It will takes months to be approved and by that time, this situation will be resolved. I have a mind to have you removed for interfering with politics. The Jedi are strict with policies, are they not?  
  
You've all but entirely banned us from helping the Simmians as is.  
  
And if it were up to me, I'd have you and your little rebellious clan shipped off planet long ago. As it is, we will just have to tolerate each other's presence. Whirling around, he had Ruebyn escorted back to the clinic.  
  
  
*  
  
Heading back to his guests, M'ztka weaved his way through the crowd mumbling curses under his breath. On the way to the stage, he nodded to Jedi Obi-Wan, Kiltma, and Chlak who occupied the center table. His nostrils flared momentarily seeing Trafalgar's place empty, but expected the minor setback. Maybe his father will see what a ridiculous move it was to send him in the first place, he sneered.   
  
Rising to the podium, he looked over the familiar faces of the crowd. The richest men in Bonadan were here, all to support him. Stilling his trembling hands, he cleared his throat. Good Afternoon. It's wonderful to see so many patrons gathered in one place to support our precious planet. Today, you'll be given the opportunity to meet our core team of negotiators as well as listen to a number of guest speakers who will be sharing their vision of Bonadan's future. To begin, let me introduce our most esteemed officiates.   
  
Kiltma's forehead paled to a shiny white, and Obi-Wan noticed a shortness of breath overtake the large humanoid as he scrambled up the stage. Chlak, on the other's heal, folded in his formal vest with a flat palm against his chest and scurried up to his place. Obi-Wan revealed little effort to hurry his way up the stage, but rather cleanly stepped in place aside the other two.   
  
Looking out at the audience, Obi-Wan sensed a sweeping skepticism that shone in the squinted eyes of the guests. Their single-mindedness towards business left him with an eerie sensation as to what such unchecked power could do. A driving force, their communal presence held the balance of the Republic's economy in their palm. Before today, he hadn't quite realized the collective impact one system could have upon another. It wasn't only their own system that would suffer, but many.  
  
Obi-Wan rocked back on his heals inconspicuously, his right hand clutching his left wrist, and turned his attention back to M'ztka.  
  
After being introduced, the three foreigners took their seats on the stage for an open forum. M'ztka took questions from the crowd while the three took turns addressing them.   
  
As a jumble of hands went up in the crowd, the three looked back and forth at each other with quick breaths and a hopelessly dry mouth.   
  
Did he say anything to you about this? He didn't say anything to me about this. Chlak chattered away to Kiltma, who bobbed his head back and forth with wide eyes.  
  
Calm down, Obi-Wan whispered, even though he, too, found the tactic was rather intimidating. Be vague. Don't give too much information.  
  
Billo, what can we do for you?  
  
A rather short man stood up. Why is the Senate targeting Bonadan when there are many other systems using slave labor as well? The group tapped on their glasses to show support.  
  
Excellent question, Billo. I'll hand that over to you, Kiltma. His face seemed to crease into a grinch-like grin as his arm opened towards the three.  
  
Beads of sweat dripped off Kiltma's smooth, hairless head. Dabbing them off with a handkerchief, he began unsteadily. I'd first like to say the Senate recognizes and appreciates your contributions to the Republic and far beyond.... he gasped.   
  
Because Bonadan is so, how shall I say it, prosperous and respected as a financial leader throughout the Republic, your high profile demands that we exhibit consistency across the board.  
  
Mumbles about consistency erupted in stifled sarcastic whispers. Looking for salvation, Kiltma added quickly, nearly choking: Of course, there are many options for finding a suitable compromise, some of which include rewriting the Charter that incited this whole mess.  
  
The Governor smiled in triumph as though he knew the representatives would cave at the first sight of intimidation. The crowd nodded heads and tapped their glasses, Now there's a solution.  
  
Fidgeting with his fingers, Kiltma looked to both his peers with a fear stricken expression. Obi-Wan could not let this crowd walk away believing that the Republic was offering that course as an option. Taking it upon himself to amend the situation, he spoke up. I think what Kiltma means to say, is that there are number of actions that the Republic may take. As for why they targeted Bonadan first, it is because unlike other slaving planets, you have threatened to secede.  
  
This is coming along swimmingly, the Governor thought to himself as the crowd once again became incensed.  
  
Obi-Wan, however, did not flinch, nor did he seem at all uncomfortable with the situation. A crowd of faces drilled M'ztka, who quickly moved onto the next question. Anyone else? Thank you Jen. Go ahead.  
  
If the OASR knows we have no intention of losing our labor, why are you here?  
  
Chlak straightened up and cleared his throat. We understand the very core of your business depends upon slave labor. Therefore, we plan to offer a viable alternative to your current system that promises an equal or higher yield. It was odd to see Chlak use such formal language as it was not generally his way of communicating.  
  
Very well. What have you got? someone shouted from the audience.  
  
The OASR is currently discussing the options on Alderaan and they will report in a week to make the offer.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded in affirmation to Chlak who sunk back into his chair drained and pale.  
  
After an hour of verbal beatings, the inquiries seemed depleted, and the group was invited to a private room where they would recline while the investors discussed their options. When they were sure the outsiders had exited, they real debate began.  
  
M'ztka. You know we can't secede. The publicity alone is compromising our contracts. As it stands, we're already feeling the pinch from systems that support the OASR and are quietly being urged to buy from other sources.  
  
One of my major clients have already broken their contract claiming pressure from the Republic.  
  
That's bantha poodoo. You just don't know how to run a business.  
  
I am well aware of the situation, Jeddeze! However, the fact of the matter remains that the Republic is infringing on our essential right for self-government.  
  
But if we actually secede, no one will do business with us. We'll lose everything.  
  
That's not entirely true. Not if we could convince other slaving systems to do it with us.  
  
Like who? No one is willing to go up against the Republic.  
  
Not anyone with an ounce of brains anyway. M'ztka glared at the speaker of this comment.   
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Meanwhile, at another table  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
And what of our representative? What does he have to say to all of this? Face it, your son is not the sharpest tool in the shed. Are you certain he can handle this? Relvaire's CEO stared at Leopold Trafalgar.   
  
Huffing to himself, he looked up from his glass of sherry. I'll let that comment slide. M'ztka will be the cause of Bonadan's downfall. Let him drown in his own mistakes.  
  
You're awfully confidant that M'ztka will fail in his attempt at secession.  
  
A long pause of implication ensued. That's not really the issue.  
  
They think it is. Relvaire's man nodded to the audience of investors.  
  
Do you really think they will allow him to secede? But he knows, that to the Republic, we don't hold any other card.  
  
Agreeing with his old friend, Relvaire stared up at the ceiling, thinking aloud. What's the worst the Republic could do, anyway, if we choose not to give up our slave labor? They don't have an interstellar army. So they couldn't possibly threaten us physically. I suppose they could tax or fine systems that do business with us, but I think we could convince them to stay- with your little project in gear.  
  
A harsh glance from Leopold caused an immediate change in topic. That's not an appropriate topic right now.  
  
So the fact of the matter is, they can't do anything if we refuse. Think of the consequences if they did. Galactic Economic Depression. Half the galaxy would starve, and the Republic doesn't want to have to pick up those pieces. It would be much too expensive.  
  
As if barely listening, Leopold breathed out heavily. That man will get us nowhere. Looking back down at his glass, he sighed again. No matter, this situation will not be resolved in our lifetime.  
  
What makes you think that?  
  
These things always take years to work out. That's why I appointed Trafalgar.  
  
Oh, please, Leo. He's just not meant for this kind of work. What about your daughter, Fianat? Is she here today?  
  
Waving him off, he sighed. It's not the same. I don't want her mingled up in all this. She's got the children, you know.  
  
Oh yes. But she's earned quite a name for herself recently. She donated a significant sum to us after the Nimitz incident.  
  
How generous of her to bail you out.  
  
He chuckled. I'm telling you, she could get some real work done around here. She's quite persuasive, you know.  
  
Leopold rolled his eyes thinking back to how often he'd spoiled her. I think manipulative is the word.   
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Walkar  
Clinic  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
Elia's heart pounded as she neared the clinic yet the distance seemed to grow longer and longer with each step forward. Dawn changed the tone of the sky to a lighter gray, yet the chill remained, and all her heat was spent.  
  
The pack had long since wandered off, the whole lot of them melted back into the night after the kill. Her place perhaps had been mistaken, for in the process she had been reminded she was not a predator by nature.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
The rush had been swift as the lead Selve attacked low. Jumping over the beast, she came up from behind and kicked out at its hind legs, tangling them. But the Selve was quick to recover, and leaped back into the attack.   
  
Evading the lead Selve, she been able to dodge various attacks, but when it finally sunk its teeth into her forearm, it seemed to realize that this was not its proper course either. The other creatures were held at bay with the soothing peace of the Force, and with the reaper's speed, the Healer slashed through the animal's neck, ear to ear.   
  
The female's jaw loosen its grip with death, and the girl unhooked her flesh from its teeth, careful not to rip it further. Lifting it gently, she swayed on her knees with the loss of blood, and scooted from beneath the weight of the beast. Laying back on the soft body of the Selve as if an intimate, she watched the miracle of healing begin and the flesh close up around the punctures on her arm.   
  
Tears came on with guilt; nature could be so cruel, and she was just a much a part of the brutality.  
  
The others crept in slowly, and she made no efforts to deter them. Forming a wide circle around her, they sniffed at her and the carcass laying next to each other on the earthen grasslands. Snuggling their wet noses into her hair, they licked at her face, then nudged the lifeless body of their leader. Sensing the presence of death, they howled as if in mourning, and slowly wandered off. As the last one glanced back on the horizon, it lifted its chin and hauntingly howled, then departed into morning.  
  
  
*****  
  
The Selve was immediately skinned in attempt to preserve the meat, abandoning the innards for scavengers. She'd brought a square fold out hatch to stretch the coat, as well as preserving salt that would speed the drying process of the leathery pelt. The body of the beast she placed in a sealed sack and hoisted it over her shoulder as she walked, while the pelt she dragged on the stretching hatch behind her from the waist.   
  
Even though she followed the traditions just as she had been taught as a young child, they did not always yield the desired effect. Peace was not so easily achieved for those that carried so much guilt. If she had known a better way to let go of the events surrounding the Southeast Nimitz, she might have tried, but hunting was her way of paying her dues to the Unknown.  
  
Pinching together her shoulder blades, she could sense the healing continuing where the canine had clawed into the flesh of her back. The initial pain was excruciating, but peace came knowing she deserved it. Struggling through the debilitation, she fought on, wondering if this would be her last hunt. She often wondered that, and sometimes hoped for it. At least in a death like that, she might obtain the honor of her Sisters, and they might forget the shameful things she had done in life.  
  
The Simmians of the Southeast Nimitz died at her hands, not of natural causes. Who was she to play God, they demanded to know.   
  
Forgiveness. And what did it matter if the All-Knowing forgave her if she could not forgive herself?  
  
Sharing the ancient tradition of one's mothers was considered an honor and she prayed that her sacrifice would be made acceptable to them. Dathomir's matriarchal society was seeped in tradition, and when she felt overwhelmed or hopeless or just simply wanted to return to the earth, she reverted to her origins. She recalled Leonora teaching her of the hunt such that each ritualistic detail was ingrained in her character. Thus, when she finally reached the clinic, she knelt before the back door and thanked the Mother Goddess for her place amidst this cosmic cycle.  
  
Throwing the pelt into the greenhouse where it would be protected, she dragged herself in through the back. Wavering for a moment next to her door, she passed it and forced herself to place the meat in the cooling unit hidden in the kitchen. Crossing the Common Area, she smiled at Thaum, stretched out asleep on the couch. The sight of him made her feel better. Exiting to the main hallway, she slipped into the Resident Quarters and looked around.   
  
The Simmians slept in a peaceful stillness. Their whole lives spent in the chains of slavery, and yet they slept as if they had earned this unfettered peace. What would she have to do to earn such, she wondered. Exhaust began to take hold and shoulders slumping, her head fell into her hands with regret.   
  
  
*****  
  
  
Rolling over in bed, Elia looked at the chronometer. 6 S.T.. She'd slept the entirety of the day, a good twelve hours. Shuffling in her slippers to the kitchen, her stomach grumbled. Rummaging around in the shelves, she pulled out a box of crackers, when Tetre walked in. Jerking his neck back in surprise, he exclaimed, You're back!   
  
Elia shrugged an affirmation reaching for the milk, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Nevertheless he took a moment to ask, Are you alright? The humanoid from Chandrila had an exotic dark look to him with light brown eyes, a burnt tone evenly playing over his well constructed frame, and black mess of hair.  
  
She nodded. I feel better. Thanks for asking. He smiled at her warmly and went on with his business. I'll take a look at those wounds a little later, he added. She was about to resist, but heard a foreign voice in the other room.   
  
Who's here? she asked, tagging along the box crackers, casually stuffing one into her mouth as she peered around the corner.  
  
That's Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. Remember, Master Li'sarrow said he would be here to assist in the negotiations.  
  
Elia hid her body behind the door frame, trying not to attract too much attention.  
  
So she's awake. There was no fondness or sympathy in Meerpa's tone, although Tetre rebuked her quietly from the kitchen at her lack of tact.   
Tetre brushed passed Elia with an arm full of condiments, while she waved timidly from a distance.   
  
Kiana got up from the table and pulled her over to the visitor. You awoke just in time. This is Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi all the way from Coruscant. Kiana smiled brightly at the introduction.   
  
This was Kiana's first assignment out of the Facility for Healer Enhancement as she had joined the group just a year ago and a half ago when she turned 18. An Elfin, her pointy ears, upturned nose, and petite features won her immediate adoration while her somewhat innocent and exceptionally sweet demeanor made all diligently protective of her. Adopting her like an orphan, the Healers doted on their new pet taking her under their wings and offering her many opportunities to enhance her cleaning skills as the lowest member on the totem pole.  
  
Ruffling through the spiky mop of jet black hair, Meerpa rolled her beady eyes in annoyance as Kiana's eyes twinkled excitement. The blue skinned Lemura had little patience for formality as the guest stood courteously and bowed.   
  
Shifting the box of crackers to under her left arm, Elia shook the proffered hand. She mumbled an apology as he rubbed his hands together, both foregoing any comment about the odd sensation and sat.   
  
Claiming the only free chair, the furthest distance from their visitor, she faced the Jedi symmetrically, trying to understand what it was about him. His Force presence was different from the Healers though she couldn't quite place in what way.   
  
Routinely polite, she noticed he avoided all sincere interaction with a cautious eye. He is here to see if what M'ztka says of us is true, she surmised. Immediately disliking this subtle evasion of truth, she wondered if he were merely produced or just chose to omit personality from his character as a form of self-sacrifice. Silently scrutinizing his rather insolent comments, she listened to the political update with a grain of salt.   
  
  
*  
  
Thaum smiled observing Elia's subtle reactions to the post-supper conversation. A listener more than an active participant, the Dathomirian native stored away her thoughts and became invisible amidst the quickly shifting onslaught of inquiries for their new guest.  
  
...Coruscant's as busy as it's always been with the addition of another building or two. The Senate is quite disturbed over these events.   
  
So Huab decided to charter the Droid Initiative? It's been all over the Holonet. How do you feel something like that would fare here? Tetre wondered aloud.  
  
Your Governor M'ztka is reluctant to change his ways. Greed does that to one.  
Elia smirked, but the others, united in their similar adversary, smiled to themselves and stole looks across the table. They eagerly awaited for him to say more, but the words hung in the air neither confirmed or denied.  
  
Recognizing he wasn't going to comment further, Kiana spoke up. I don't see how a living work force could possibly be more cost effective than droids.  
  
For one, Meerpa bantered, with slaves, the laborers replenish themselves.  
  
But the cost to replace faulty droids is minimal. They manufacture the parts here; they could put themselves back together, Tetre added.  
  
I don't see how raising children could be considered more efficient than shipping in another batch of droids.  
  
Well, the supplements given to the Simmians are next to nothing, and they start working at age six.  
  
What about housing and food?  
  
They think housing is a one time cost and food is shipped in from Balo under a contract from a subdivision of Tlaska, Inc. The Simmians diet is pretty sparse. Tutlre, a grain mush-  
  
-that we've all grown so fond of-  
  
And a few mineral capsules.  
  
I'd be interested in viewing some of the facilities. Does one need to obtain a pass?  
  
It's not that formal. One of us will take you down there.  
  
Thank you, he nodded preoccupied with the mention of Tlaska. It seems they have their hands in everything, he surmised to himself, having previously misjudged the importance of their presence at the negotiations. He'd keep an eye out for them in the future.  
  
So what's your personal opinion on this situation? Tetre inquired casually inhaling the last few drops of his beverage.   
  
My feelings are irrelevant, but unfortunately, the Senate cannot challenge Bonadan without causing a chain reaction that will affect a great many others. The Jedi summed up the situation with an educated class, but Elia was far less trusting as he never did reveal his honest opinion about the matter.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Coruscant  
Palpatine's Offices  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
Irritated at the OASR's audacity at their attempt to swing the Droid Initiative, Palpatine called together his closest staff members.   
  
Although we obviously have nothing to fear, some of our investors are concerned about Huab's recent decision to adopt this experimental program called the Droid Initiative. Unfortunately, the evidence shows that droids are not the most cost effective or reliable form of labor. However, it seems Huab will need some convincing of this as well. Perhaps we can help them along. After all, we don't want to confuse systems about their loyalties.  
  
Let's contact our friends at the manufacturing facility and check in on the quality of the product being designed. We wouldn't want them to receive faulty or miswired machinery. And we should also check on the transport arrangements. There could be some difficulty with the shipping lanes.  
  
Confirm that the correct information is being published about the endeavor. We don't want to mislead other systems, as Huab has been mislead, into believing that droid labor can be successful.  
  
Let it be said, and it was done. There was one other call that he had to make himself, though.  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Folklorum, Alderaan to Walkar, Bonadan  
Transmission: Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan   
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
Obi-Wan had just gotten out of the fresher after a strenuous run and sunk into the front parlor's claw footed couch awaiting his master's call. His clean white tee and cotton drawstring pants hung cool against his warm body. Although his bare feet were still sticky with heat, at least they were free from the confines of his well worn multipurpose boots. Picking up a popdisk off the glass coffee table, he scrolled down the cover stories but soon tossed it aside in weariness. His legs ached slightly in a good way and he was eternally thankful for a moment of rest. Swinging his legs up, he stretched out the length of sofa and hooked his hands underneath his head. Closing his eyes, he could physically feel his feet throb with heat and decidedly propped them up on the armrest.  
  
A pulsing tone woke him from his doze.   
  
Sir, your caller is waiting, the droid announced redundantly stepping out of the shadows. Taking his time, Obi-Wan reached up for the ceiling in a long tall stretch before slugging to the small com room, his bare feet padding softly across the cushioned carpet.   
  
Qui-Gon's image waited patiently on the wall screen and watched him cross in front of another couch, and plop down. Tired, my padawan?  
  
Obi-Wan scrubbed his head quickly back and forth and then settled back into the overstuffed couch. Pulling out the elastic cinch in his ponytail, he scratched around the back of his head with a low rumbling sigh. Tossing the elastic onto the table in front of him, he kicked out his feet and rested them on its edge. Noticing Qui-Gon's clean shaven, presentable look and his still steaming cup of tea, he surmised it was still morning on Alderaan. How early is it there?  
  
Early. I've been in contact with Master Li'sarrow, and she seems eager to speak with you about the situation there.  
  
Mmm. I'll contact her in the morning. What's happening on Alderaan?  
  
It seems accidents have been a little more than frequent. A great deal of apprehension is being created by small isolated incidents that have many worried. It seems we've had to delay the actual transition due to some unexpected technical difficulties.  
  
Surrounding what?  
  
Apparently, a batch of decoder boxes were faulty in a number of droids, and were recalled.  
  
I heard about that on the holo. Over 2 million from 15 systems were recalled. Do you suspect foul play?  
  
Likely, but its difficult to track. Mon Mothma believes once the public realizes they are being manipulated, they'll pull their investments and this nonsense will cease.  
  
Don't you think she's giving the public a little too much credit at this point?  
  
They seem assured they'll come around eventually.  
  
And if they don't?  
  
We'll deal with that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, be mindful. Intrigue knocks at the unsuspecting door. I'll see you in a week or so. May the Force be with you.  
  
Slinking to his room, Obi-Wan crashed onto his bed, reluctantly letting go of the troubling conversation.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Hours later  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
The droid, TC14, woke him nearly an hour before he would have chosen to get up himself. Master Li'sarrow is waiting to speak with you. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he dug into the corners of his eyes, wiping away the sleepers. Grunting, he sat up, still in a daze. Throwing on his brown robe, he shuffled to the com room, smoothing back his hair and clearing his voice.   
  
Sorry to wake you Jedi Kenobi. I thought it was important that I contact you before you start the day. A lanky brunette, Master Healer Li'sarrow obviously felt bad about the intrusion.  
  
No, Master Li'sarrow, I appreciate your contact, he croaked with the first words of the morning. Catching a yawn, he forced his mouth closed as she began.  
  
I'm sending one of our healers to negotiations today. I need to forewarn you, though, that Governor M'ztka is none too fond of my decision, nor of the healers in general.  
  
That seems to be the sentiment on their part as well.  
  
So you've been to the clinic, then?  
  
Healer Ruebyn invited me to dine with them a couple of days ago.  
  
I assume you met Healer Elia. He squinted trying to think back. Healer Amelia may have been out when you arrived.  
  
he nodded with remembrance. But I didn't really get a chance to speak with her.  
  
I've chosen her to accompany you in the negotiations. I hope you might be able to greet her this morning at the Palace. There has been an inordinate amount of negative attention drawn to the healers after the events in the Southeast Nimitz, so I would appreciate any assistance you might be able to provide.  
  
Of course, I'll do whatever I can. Forgive me for intruding, but what exactly happened in the Nimitz?  
  
She nodded in thanks, sighing at the last question. I sent Healer Amelia out to Relvaire's slave quarters at the healer's bequest after a mining disaster. Nearly thirty Simmians suffered from radiation poisoning and were declined medical treatment for one reason for another. They were beyond the point of being able to travel, so I sent her out to them. She was unable to treat them, as expected, and they all died.  
  
Relvaire filed a law suit against the healers claiming she had destroyed their property, and therefore owed a debt of over D5,000 ducats per slave.  
  
Obi-Wan breathed out silently. What was the verdict?  
  
It's still in dispute. I've been in close contact with Relvaire, but they're taking the case to the High Courts. Meanwhile, the healers have had to deal with an unprecedented amount of attention from the media and general populace. The Bondani think its ludicrous to stay where they aren't wanted, and believe its nothing more than a political ploy from the Senate to keep an eye on things.   
  
However, the Jedi Council believes as long safety is not a concern, there is not enough cause for them to abandon the facility. As it is universally required of all planets to have health care available to its poor, the Senate agrees and will keep the clinic open.   
  
I must also warn you that she is somewhat reluctant to participate. But she will do whatever needs to be done.  
  
Do you think its a wise idea after what's occurred? Perhaps you could send out someone who's not so immediately involved in the situation?  
  
She feels the nature of Bonadan; she will lead the way.  
  
Very well. I will do all I can.  
  
Thank you. I'll be in contact. May the Force be with you.  
  
Gathering himself up, he considered the newly acquired information and made to prepare for the day.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Walkar  
The Governor's Palace  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
The healer slipped by security hidden beneath the folds of a white robe into the lavish hotel, a mere speck in the glittering immensity. Craning her neck back, Elia bumbled forward slowly, overtaken by the beauty. The cavernous hall spread its wings towards the illusion of a dazzling sun lit sky. Crystalline gems dotted the air in a orbital rotation refracting the rays of brilliant color like whimsical lasers. Stretching up into an airy dome, the entrance seemed to make little impression to anyone except her. Whizzing past her on either side, the Bondani guests focused on an oblivion before them; ironically, she found this inhumane feature somewhat comforting.  
  
Not sure where to go, she ambled over to a corner and fondled the elephantine leaves of an indoor gum tree as she surreptitiously spied the devil's den.  
  
With a slow turn of her head, she scanned the area, hands still caressing the leaves, when a man dressed in a plain brown robe neared her from behind. She caught her breath in realization it was not security, but the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. Cringing in embarrassment for the unexpected visit, she stammered a good morning. He returned the greeting with a subtle nod, as if immediately in awareness of her sense of threat. Before she could ask, he explained his impeccable timing. Master Li'sarrow contacted me this morning that I should expect you.  
  
I see, thank you. Her eyes darted across the floor in irritation and relief. Unimpressed by their first meeting last night, she was nonetheless eternally thankful for his presence.  
  
Should I pay you the gold coin now, Charon? Although his frown did not ease, he did a doubletake at the comment, and changed the subject. We'll not begin for another forty-five minutes. Do you take tea?  
  
Gently opening his palm in a polite gesture inviting her to lead the way, she stepped forward with a dull ache in her belly and a lack of direction.   
  
  
*  
  
  
Although Obi-Wan recognized Elia's unity with the Living Force was well developed, to what ends she used such connections remained to be exhibited, and he therefore regarded the healer with caution. And, although their rapport was yet impersonal, he sensed in her a reserved hostility and wasn't exactly sure what to make of it.  
  
Distracted by this thought, he nearly missed the entrance way to the lifts where a throng of people exited to the main lobby. Clutching his elbow, she hid behind him as the group passed. An invisible shield went up around her, and he noticed her head fall, draping the folds of her white robe around her face.  
  
Two hundred floors up they exited to an airy artificial verandah where she finally lifted back her hood. Now that he was able to see her face, his anxiety eased. After ordering a couple of simple breakfast teas from the serving droid, the Jedi explored the possibility that what he had originally taken as disinterest the other night, could have simply been caution as she exhibited now.   
  
Interrupting his concentration, she leaned back against her chair and folded her arms across her chest. Undoubtedly the Governor will be pleased to see the healers involved.  
  
The corner of his mouth twitched in a surprised smile at the unbeckoned comment. So I gathered. Changing his tone, he assured her that the healer's representation was only fair. It is right for you to be here; the healers have invested a great deal on this planet. Sipping his tea, he wondered if she really believed this and wondered himself if her presence was truly necessary. It was obvious she was not a diplomatic material; she was far too direct.  
  
My presence here has nothing to do with how much we have invested, or to gain some kind of interstellar respect as others have been saying. We know we are not wanted here because the people feel we have too much political clout with the Senate, and they feel the strain too confining for their liberal ideology. Our presence is a product of bureaucracy, and honestly, this is the last place in the universe I'd choose to be. But I've been given a charge, and that is to defend the dignity of the Simmians, who have thus been presented as no more than stock. As if realizing her voice had grown a little too loud, she toned down to a heavy whisper.  
  
I don't even know how to help them other than demand they be given their freedom, and that concept, in and of itself, it defeatist. For M'ztka will laugh straight in my face at the mere suggestion.  
  
Deliberately unrevealing, he stifled an inappropriate smile upon viewing her placid exterior disturbed. M'ztka would not like this, that much was certain, and while she was adamant, the healers held not one card in their hand, rendering them virtually ineffectual participants. But why M'ztka had been so threatened by their presence still baffled him. What kind of threat could this small band of six ultimately impose?  
  
Maybe they think we will rally the Simmians to revolt. Or that we have some kind of secretive spying agenda for the Senate. We are just one more example of how the Republic is crushing them from the insides out. Apparently, we threaten their autonomy. Shrugging her shoulders in agitation, her eyes roamed out over the magnetic field into the blue gray sky, where up overhead air traffic could just be seen.  
  
Still and solidly focused, her eyes glazed over. The conflict cannot be resolved behind these closed doors. A long weary sigh eased from her body, and he wondered if she'd had sensed this, or merely surmised. In either event, he was inclined to agree with her. For thus far, little had been accomplished.   
  
  
*****  
  
An hour later, Governor M'ztka wandered in the conference room, an irritated smirk at the sight of his new visitor. Look what the cat dragged in. His eyes drilled her intensely as he rounded the conference table, black robe fanning out behind him in an overdone display of royalty. Centering himself before his throne at the head of the table, he nodded her way and sat. So nice to see you again, Healer Amelia. I see no introductions need to be made with our Jedi Kenobi. I am sure you two are quite familiar. Obi-Wan met the governor's gaze marking him with suspicion. They informed me I should expect you this morning, and naturally I posted a few extra guards in the case that things were to get out of hand. You people are quite popular around here, you know.  
  
Jedi Kenobi, do excuse us momentarily. I need to address Ms. d'Sinette privately. Stretching out of his chair, he slithered through a side door expecting the girl to follow.   
  
Rising in courtesy, Obi-Wan wondered what kind of background existed between the two obvious rivals and suddenly grew anxious at the governor's request to address her privately. Glancing down to Elia still sitting defiantly, he pressed his lips together unconsciously and waited to see what she'd do after the sarcastic demand. Seeing as M'ztka's only kind words to her had been prefaced with a threat, Obi-Wan was torn as to whether or not he should intervene. But M'ztka had burrowed himself from sight within the dark adjacent room and when he turned back, the steady apparition of white had risen and floated across the room. The Force eased through her cleanly at this point, increasing his confidence in her ability to stand up to the domineering planetary leader. Centering himself, he remained standing as the double doors closed behind her.   
  
  
*****  
  
M'ztka's direct and efficient command irritated Elia, but when he called her common, she was infuriated. Preparing herself for a strong word or two, she left behind the disapproving Obi-Wan and entered the chamber.  
  
The door whooshed closed behind her enclosing them in a shadowy technically advanced cave. The blue toned hexagonally shaped interior office was wide and spacious. Holodisks lined the oversized book shelving units like an archaic library and while a desk and chairs stood central to the room, they remained uninvited.   
  
M'ztka stood across the room, arms folded over his barrel chest, tapping his chin as if considering how best to deal with this dilemma. The healer locked her hands before her and kept her head down, reverting to the Force for patience. Tension rippled, but finally he began. I am sure it pleases you to know my hands are tied. The CSA (Corporate Sector Agency) demands I comply with all efforts of compromise'. To expel you and your kind might appear too militant in the eyes of our off world investors. And you know what the natives think. Stepping forward, he laid down the guidelines. Therefore I allow your presence at our gatherings, singly as an observer. Should you step beyond your bounds-  
  
A dramatic pause preceded the threat.  
  
Have you ever heard of the Benzoic Mechanism?  
  
Eyes lifted. Loosening her knotted hands, she ambled close to him. Though the challenge was followed by neither threat nor reproach, he nonetheless reacted if she had gravely offended him. Barreling into her body, he jabbed a waving finger in her face.   
  
Bly me not, witch, or I'll have you burned at the stake. After the events in the Nimitz, it wouldn't be too hard.  
  
Burning red, she struggled to contain herself recalling the mob that surrounded the clinic the night she returned. But it wasn't so much herself she was worried about, it was the Simmians.  
  
She remembered the last time the biological weapon was used. She had just arrived on Bonadan with Thaum and the Simmians in Quism's residential quarters decided to strike one day in retaliation of an imposed food shortage. What she learned was that slaves not only have transmitters hidden in their bodies, but also a pellet of the lethal chemical Benzene which, when activated, bursts into the bloodstream affecting the nervous system. Victims experience up to five minutes of painful convulsions before the potency reaches the brain and they collapse. Externally, a indigo colored bruise forms around the neck region and up around the right side of the face. As a result of the strike, the dissenters were promptly killed off and new slaves were shipped in at a cost of over D43 million ducats.   
  
Without raising her tone, she slowly stepped back, raised her chin, and said, Don't overplay your power, Governor. Your precious investors would not be so supportive if you mutilated their stock by killing off the Simmian slaves.  
  
Throwing back his head, he rationalized the situation as if speaking to an ignorant school girl. My dear girl, don't you realize they profit if I use the Mechanism? Each slave has an insurance policy that far exceeds their actual worth. I alone decide when to use the device, and I should hardly think my investors would be opposed to earning an extra million or two.  
  
The blood rushed from her cheeks. Nostrils flaring, she licked her lips to keep herself from making the same mistake twice.   
  
So do we have an understanding?   
  
And you, of course, will keep this to yourself.  
  
He smiled a pointy, wicked grin and brushed past her with spring in his heels.   
  
When she finally gathered the courage to crawl out the hole, she found a whole new audience had accrued and struggled inwardly to refocus on this new situation. Filing away M'ztka's threats for a more appropriate time, the rose in her cheeks returned, and ironically enough she surprised even herself when when she politely addressed the governor. Your honor, I am pleased to make the acquaintance of your company. The words flowed out smoothly from her sweet tongue, surprising the group as if the ghostlike apparition was made simply to linger, not to spout eloquencies.  
  
Bowing to her audience as prelude to the charade that was about to begin, she smiled prettily as M'ztka introduced her to Kiltma and Chlak. She walked around the table to meet them and gently touched hands with them, extracting whatever knowledge of them she could in the touch.   
  
Allowing Chlak to take her robe, she chose the seat directly opposite of the governor, a symbolic antithesis. Small talk ensued but luckily for her the governor was obliged to answer the questions for her.   
  
So Healer Amelia, what is it exactly, that you do? Kiltma faced her sincerely, though the answer seemed quite obvious.  
  
She smiled at M'ztka before beginning and was met with a hard glare. Similar to the Jedi or the Agri-Corp, the Jedi Healers are the medical sect commissioned by the Senate to provide supplies and treatment to its citizens.  
  
Humph, if DiQaerma is considered a standard part of the treatment, the governor muttered under his breath. Obi-Wan suspected it to be in reference of the law suit, but the governor said no more.   
  
So you treat all citizens? Kiltma politely questioned for the sake of clarification.  
  
Anyone who comes to us.  
  
Interjecting to acclaim Bonadan's current medical system, M'ztka asserted, All citizens of Bonadan are cared for under law, and even our slaves receive the utmost care by a contracted health maintenance organization. Each corporation is required to provide basic health services to all its laborers and their families- all at no cost to the Simmians. Whereas, citizens have the insurance drawn off their yearly taxable income.  
  
It seems your health care system is quite adequate, then. How is it you came to be on Bonadan?   
  
M'ztka smiled successfully, and spoke right over Kiltma's last question. Oh yes. We don't really require the assistance of the Healers, but when the Labor Treaty was signed five hundred years ago, the Senate required a minimum of one establishment on each planet. It was designed with less lucrative systems in mind, who might not be able to afford sufficient health care to its laborers. Unlike us.  
  
Elia blinked back the rude interruption and continued.   
  
We are sent wherever we are needed. And there is a need on Bonadan, despite its quite successful industry. Our current location is just a mile outside Walkar, and I'd be honored if you came out to visit us at some point of your stay. Kiltma and Chlak were both charmed to the bone and eagerly accepted the invitation. Just out of the corner of her eye, she noticed M'ztka roll his eyes back and caught a weary sigh at their simple distraction.  
  
That would be most appreciated. But fortunately for her, the conversation did not end there as Chlak continued to ask the perfect questions. And why not a more central location to the city?  
  
-At the time, space was unavailable.   
  
Excellent, Governor. I didn't realize you knew so much about the healers.  
  
Yes, well, we've had our moments....  
  
  
*  
  
The conversation clarified a few of his own concerns, and although Obi-Wan had many more on his mind, he didn't bother to pursue them at this time, as he was still unable to decipher who swayed more on the side of sincerity, and who just wanted to make a good impression. Therefore, he kept all comments to himself.  
  
Moments later, Trafalgar ambled in, cutting the conversation short. Good morning. How nice of you to drop in, M'ztka bantered sarcastically with a wave of his hand. Obi-Wan was certain Trafalgar hated the man as he returned the comment with a cold, hard stare. Ignoring Kiltma and Chlak entirely, Trafalgar rounded the table, eyeing the new member cautiously. Sitting, he set aside his exquisite skills in tact and stared at her without comment.   
  
Obi-Wan, disgusted by the youth's demeanor and general audacity, stood and made a formal introduction to one another only because none of the others bothered to do so. Even Amelia, who had up to then been overwilling to charm the guests of this party, withheld all extraneous efforts. As if rising again were too much trouble, Trafalgar simply leaned forward and reached out his hand. Amelia rose and touched hands efficiently, but quickly turned away.  
  
Obi-Wan sat back down with them, and strangely enough, found the Healers hand under the table seeking out his. Misunderstanding the message, he held out his hand as if she had something to give to him, but her hand was empty. Ironically, what he did find in her palm was a strange feeling, and with it an unspoken comment of sinister energy surrounding the shabby, unshaven youth.   
  
The extended period of silence was finally broken only with a change of subject by Kiltma. Well, then. Now that we are all here, I think its high time we get onto business.  
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  



	3. Sith Secrets

Sith Secrets 

+++++++++++++++  
Folklorum, Alderaan  
Press Conference  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
Elevated on a hoverpodium, Mon Mothma responded to the latest set-back in OASR's efforts to redeem the Droid Initiative. So you will continue to pursue finding alternative means of labor-  
  
We will not rest until we find a suitable solution to this problem.  
  
Mon Mothma abandoned the podium and was swiftly swept backstage by security officers. Meeting Qui-Gon, they efficiently stepped to the waiting vehicle and sped off back to her headquarters. I know set-backs must be expected, she said, kneading her hands in her lap, but this only goes to show how far people will go to fight us.  
  
-No matter how illogical, the Jedi added folding a hand over hers in a way of comfort. He had great respect for the Senator and found her cause noble, but it frustrated him that it did not find unanimous support.   
  
Well, I suppose I should get back to work and find out what happened to that shipment.  
  
Qui-Gon wanted to tell her that they'd never discover what exactly occurred to that shipment because whoever did it would have taken extreme measures to cover their tracks, but he knew she did not need further discouragement at this time. On the contrary, he offered his assistance.  
  
She broke into a weary, but appreciative smile. Thank you Jedi Qui-Gon. I'll call up the team.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Governor's Palace  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
The first day of official mediation closed and the group slugged out of the conference room drained of attention.   
  
With little explanation, Obi-Wan informed the healer he would escort her back the clinic. Master Li'sarrow was adamant, he justified in response to the quirky cringe that spread across her face.  
  
Thank you but I can take care of myself.  
  
You do not have a choice.  
  
That's quite presumptuous of you.  
  
  
  
Already ruffled from the humbling morning, Elia huffed out the door and weaved her way into the crowd in a deliberate effort to leave him behind. Glancing over her shoulder with the hope that she had lost him, she barreled down through the main street, irritated at his brashness. She did not appreciate being taken as inferior and did not need to be taken care of. Spinning around to see if he had followed her, she picked up her pace and fumed over what Master Li'sarrow could have possibly told the Jedi.   
  
'I failed at the Nimitz; I can't take care of my own. Here was my chance at redemption. Reestablish the healer's reputation.....'  
  
  
*  
  
Her white cloak mirage in and out of the crowd, but following her Force imprint, Obi-Wan was able to tail behind at a safe distance. Irritated by her self-centered and arrogant impudence, he wondered how Qui-Gon let such instances slide without ever having seemed disturbed. He recalled King Frane of Rutan who felt comfortable treating the Jedi with whatever rude inclination overtook him, but Qui-Gon responded calmly and even respectfully to each of the discourtesies. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, found such remarks and behavior entirely unacceptable and was not about to let such slide.   
  
Watching her slip down a quiet side street, he picked up his pace. He frowned as she deliberately hurried on and watched as she checked behind her every few minutes to see if he had caught up.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
From a distance, the woman noticed the healer stop and turn around. The voyeur ducked as the petite brunette scanned the walls of the alleyway, then drop an electro-dagger from the sleeve of her robe and turn. Aiming her crossbow, she pulled back the taut thread and steadied her arm.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Elia spun around. Searching the virtually empty alley, her eyes told her she was entirely alone, but an awkward feeling pestered her at the back of her neck. Closing her eyes, she searched inwardly for the threatening presence. The Jedi was still following her. But there was something else....  
  
You shouldn't walk in the open.  
  
Startled with a transparent gasp, she lifted her chin. I told you there was no need to accompany me! Sliding the blade back into her sleeve, she glared at him defiantly. None taken by her slyness, he knowingly glanced down at her empty palm.   
  
Void of all life, the steep walls formed a dark, narrow pathway without any inlets or even windows. Obi-Wan remained diligent, realizing they would have no where to escape if attacked.   
  
Moments after this thought, a gurgling eased up from behind them, the sound echoing through the long hall. Nervously spinning around, the two witnessed white steam shoot out the ground in twenty foot towers beginning a far off and speed towards them in succession. Noticing the asphalted earth covered with the vents beneath their feet, they looked up at one another in expectation.   
  
Even before they could respond, the steam blew right up their robes and sprayed them with a warm stench. Expecting the steam to be much hotter, they swiped the liquid off their faces and gagged for air.   
  
What is that putrid smell? Obi-Wan demanded, sniffing at the collar of his robe.  
  
It must be the sewer, she said, pinching her nose.   
  
This doesn't happen all over town, does it? He bounced his head back and forth and rolled his eyes when she nodded. I guess we're just the lucky ones.  
  
Seconds later, the gurgling began again. With a quick glance at one another, they bolted down the alley. They could hear the steam sputtering out of the vents behind them, getting closer and closer. Running at their top speeds and smiling at the competition, Obi-Wan left her behind. Storming out of the alley onto a cleanly paved sidewalk, he hopped into a turn just in time to see the white mist plow through Elia seconds before she reached the edge. Overtaken, she slowed her run and skipped out of the alleyway, her white robe flying up over her shoulders. Still breathing heavily, Obi-Wan crossed his arms and covered his mouth to muffle a well earned guffaw.  
  
'Satisfaction for the victor,' he thought without a twinge of guilt for savoring such sweet revenge. Seeing no harm had occurred, he found himself unable to resist a cynic's response. Justice for leading me down that sewer, he jeered swiping at the folds of his own robe. Although the situation lingered on awkward, to witness that look of defeat on Elia's face eliminated all embarrassment he might have felt for her earlier this morning.   
  
Her shocked face, dripping with condensed steam, displayed an exaggerated frown of disgust at the bad luck. Pointing at her disshelved robe which had folded back over the top of her head, Obi-Wan stifled his urge to bask in the glory of his victory, and limited his comments.  
  
Very funny, she barked, feigning serious irritation as she straightened out her clothing. What kind of protection are you?  
  
The free kind. His comment did not earn a pleasant response.  
  
Just leave me behind, why don't you!?!?  
  
Look who's talking! I nearly had to chase you down here. Besides, you should have been faster, he snickered mercilessly and wandered over to her as she wiped herself off. Your alright, he said pacifistly, helping her untangle the billowy hood of her robe.   
  
Ugh! I am going to smell forever, she complained.  
  
Well, me too, but he knew it was little consolation. She obviously did not like to lose.  
  
Yes, but I twice as bad.  
  
Frowning, she took off her robe altogether and shook it out, heavy with the damp. Forgetting her identity momentarily, she draped it over her arm.   
  
Now, are you sure you know where we're going? he teased, foregoing his usual self-conscious reserve.   
  
she snapped, I know exactly where we are. She looked around for street signs and tugged at her hair. Here. Hold this. Pawning off her cloak, she unraveled the rolling pin that held her long dark locks and tucked the stray strands back into it.  
  
See, we're on Belveiw.  
  
He didn't have any idea what that meant, and they both knew it. Chortling at her response, she stopped in front of a shop window and viewed herself. He found her transformed personality far more tolerable now that her pride had been taken down a notch or two, and began to rebuke himself for taking so much pleasure in the poor girl's misfortune.   
  
Taking back her cloak, she threw it over her shoulders, and lifted back the hood.  
  
While Obi-Wan didn't think much of the act, he too, became more aware of their surroundings. There aren't many people out.  
  
Happy to leave behind the embarrassing moment, she jumped on the change of subject, though continued to huff her answers with irritability. It's supper. Most are in their homes.  
  
But its not even dark.  
  
It's just not as noticeable with the four moons. It's kind of a constant gray here.  
  
How long have you been here?  
  
Over six years. I know this place pretty well.  
  
Apparently, not well enough, he remarked playfully.   
  
I don't think I would have chosen that particular alley if I had known that would happen at that time.   
  
Reassessing the last few minutes, he made a firm resolve to conduct himself more like a Jedi and cease the cheap jabs. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he glanced across the street.  
  
After a few moments of silence, she wondered what suddenly changed his attitude. Just as the thought came to her, she noticed a wall plastered with flyers supporting the secession. The same poster repeated its message over and over in a huge tessellation. Obi-Wan recognized the picture as Senator Din shaking a fist at the Senate. Beneath, it read,  
  
  
Big brother Republic:  
Whose freedom are you preserving?  
  
  
Heads hung, they shuffled their feet passed the advertisement. To top it off, on the ground spray painted in sweeping red letters was written, Support Relvaire.  
  
An awkward silence washed over her, and her throat tightened. Did he notice, she wondered? Someone must have told him before he came out. She cringed imagining she would have to explain herself again- to a stranger she hardly knew.  
  
Thankfully, as if he read her mind, he admitted his knowledge. Master Li'sarrow told me this morning. Stomping on the letters as if to rub them out as she walked, she suddenly became very quiet. Folding her arms across her chest, she scrunched her shoulders together.  
  
Noticing her discomfort, he added, You don't need to say anything.   
  
And she didn't.  
  
They walked the next ten minutes in silence, until they came upon Lepkaum.  
  
Before he could ask about it, she announced she'd take him there the following day.   
  
I can make it from here, we're nearly out of the city.  
  
He nodded; she'd had enough grief today. Temporarily surrendering, he obeyed her wish without comment, and waited until she had walked on a few paces before turning around and heading back. On the return route, he wandered curiously passed Lepkaum, a thickening gloom spreading over the area.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
Palpatine's Private Office  
Coruscant  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
The Senator was eager to know what happened the first day of negotiations, and was waiting patiently to hear from Kiltma, drumming his fingers absent-mindedly.   
  
the voice materialized from the minute speaker beneath the holo pad.   
  
Kiltma, give me good news.  
  
Unfortunately, nothing eventful happened today.  
  
he sighed with a twinge of disappointment, I suppose, no news is good news. That CSA rep hasn't mentioned anything about the Droid Initiative, has he?  
  
No, but we've been in close contact.  
  
Make sure he doesn't offer it prematurely, as I would hate for it to be discredited before any real evidence to the contrary be formally recorded. In the meanwhile, if anything of importance arises, I'll expect an immediate contact.  
  
Of course.  
  
I do have your trust, have I not, Kiltma? Senator Palpatine smoothed over the velvety cloth around his front.  
  
Yes, my lord.  
  
Good. I'll be in contact.  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
Clinic  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
The healer pounded the dirt road back the to clinic, mumbling to herself as if the sound of her own voice might drown out the guilt, and embarrassment. Clenching her fists, she flung her arms out in the air in an anxious stretch as she hopped up the last few steps. As expected, all was quiet on the western front.  
  
Slipping into the common area, Elia plopped down on the couch and picked up a popdisk. The headline was something about cloning technology.   
  
Thaum spun around from his consul to greet Elia. Well....?!?! How did it go?  
  
A pitiful expression pruned her face.   
  
That bad?  
  
I couldn't think of a better way to waste my time. The negotiations have nothing to do with the Simmians; it has to do with money. What's all this about? Changing the subject, she tossed the popdisk to the other side of the couch and rubbed her temples.   
  
Why are you so surprised at that? You always knew it was the money.  
  
Sitting on her cold hands, she fastened her feet Indian style between the cushions. I don't know. I thought....  
  
Thaum waited expectantly, but understood her disappointment. Interrupted by a ready tone, he spun back around to his consul, and downloaded the information that flooded the screen.   
  
What are you doing?  
  
I ran some tests on Li'Tala today.  
  
How is she? His eyes scanned the computerized assessment. Not so good. Her lungs are barely functioning, he sighed and turned around again to face his friend, but her spirits are high.  
  
Elia nodded half-heartedly. She's a sweet girl. I wish there were something more we could do.  
  
Me too.  
  
So are you going to tell her?  
  
Nah. She's just a kid. I'll go in and see her again later. Kiana's gonna be real upset. That's her girl. After a moment of pensive thought, Thaum stretched up and around, yawning loudly.  
  
Where you going? she whined.  
  
It's my turn to make dinner tonight. Want to go out to the garden with me? You can help me decide what to fix.  
  
Easing off the couch, Elia picked up on their earlier conversation about the negotiations. I was hoping in that minute chance that I might be able to actually change something. Or that there was a reason for me to be there, but obviously there isn't. She didn't mention how the governor threatened and belittled her, or how rudely she had acted towards the Jedi, but her face flushed in the thought.   
  
Picking up baskets in the kitchen, they slipped outside into the lengthy twilight and hopped across the stepping stones that wound their way to the greenhouse out back. At his heals, she tried to brush past the humiliation as they stepped into the humid greenhouse.   
  
I hate him. I hate everything he represents. How can I participate in such bureaucracy and maintain any degree of integrity? I can't. Throwing an open palm to the air, she dangled at the threshold of psychological defeat.  
  
She was still frozen in the doorway when he caught sight of the stretched pelt drying in the corner. She noticed her friend flinch as though he might comment, but settled for a firm questioning glance before shuffling down the garden aisles.   
  
Shifting her eyes to avoid the concerned gaze, she cocked her head to the side and threw her hand on hip, returning to her last thought. It's ridiculous, Thaum. The whole thing is a sham.  
  
What did you talk about today? he asked, examining a bulbous purple vegetable.  
  
Nothing. That's just it.  
  
What did you do all day then? He held up the vegetable for approval.   
  
She shrugged in affirmation. We signed paperwork for nearly an hour, verifying our purpose and honest intentions. Finding herself moseying through the garden behind her friend, she soon found herself pruning her own plot while her thoughts still wrapped up in the day's frustrations.   
  
So when do you actually get to make some decisions?  
  
You've got to be kidding. It's pointless. Look what's happening to my hydrangea.  
  
His arms now full, he glanced up momentarily to see her pluck away at the plant. You want to know what I read today? Come on.   
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
Trafalgar Estate  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
So, I understand you finally opened your doors to cloning. It's all over the news.  
  
Don't make it sound like it's that big of a deal, father. You know we've had that technology for twenty-five years. But now that the Senate passed the bill to allocate money for cloning, they've deregulated the industry making it legal for companies like us to sell our services.  
  
Leopold dined casually with his daughter, Fianat, and his three grandchildren in their stone country estate. The economy was booming and Leopold's family was reaping the many benefits of well planned investments, and remained happily untouched by the state of affairs on Bonadan. He'd learned the knack from his own father who'd learned it from his and down on the line. He would have liked to have been able to pass on the skill to a son of his own, but fate would have it otherwise. Luckily, his daughter had made up for any lack of pecuniary skill on his son's part.   
  
So what kind of services do you plan to offer?   
  
We've been approached by a number individuals wishing to clone themselves, and thereby defy their meager status as mortals.  
  
Leopold laughed, scraping the last bite of meat off his plate. What did you say to that?  
  
Are you done, sweetheart? Fianat asked her youngest child, as she wiggled in her seat. We're not in that kind of business, Father.  
  
How much were they offering?  
  
We're strictly medical, you know that.   
  
Isn't immortality a medical issue?  
  
An arched eyebrow and piercing gaze told him not to argue this one.   
  
I've got a number of contracts lined up. The most lucrative though tend to be those with pure bred humans. They seem to believe they have the right to life. We are in constant need of human cells and DNA. But you know, overall, we're providing a variety of organic tissues and chemicals for over a hundred species.   
  
She was his most valuable asset and he trusted her judgment above all others. That is why he gave her Curel. Since she had taken over nearly ten years ago, the company had expanded considerably, and profits had nearly tripled.  
  
But nothing could wipe that grin of contentment off his face as he now admired his growing grandchildren. Reclining to ease the distention of a heavy, wonderful meal, Leopold crossed his leg on top of the other and sighed. The reverie was soon interrupted though by a message calling him back to his home office. Politely excusing himself, he waved a goodbye to the youngest who whined and reached out her arms when he exited.  
  
Strolling to his private quarters, he admired the mirrored holos along the hallway of his extended clan and marveled at the similarities of facial structure. It honored him to know that this was his bloodline and that he were continuing on a long lived tradition.  
  
Sitting back into his plush chair, he replayed the holo.  
  
A dark figure materialized before him, one he had not seen in years, and a voice that croaked with old age. I trust you have been comfortable these twenty-five long years for I have come to claim due our bargain.  



	4. An Unexpected Plot

An Unexpected Plot 

++++++++++  
FLASHBACK:  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
30 years ago  
++++++++++  
  
  
At one time, Leopold Trafalgar was a young man with a noble life. He had a beautiful wife and daughter, and a strapping young son who he dreamed would carry on the family legacy of entreuprenuerialship as he intended to do for his father. Recently having the torch passed on to him, he inherited the responsibility of not only maintaining, but improving all aspects of Tlaska. Fortunately, his father left him with a reputable name and a loyal cliente, but this was not able to pull them out of a period of declining profit. Though still unrelentingly successful, he often searched the lesser familiar channels for new opportunity as a firm believer that innovation was the key to success. So when Lord Sidious made the offer, he listened intently before responding.  
  
As the Sith put it, too many systems had money wrapped up in other investments to support his interests. The Republic, unfortunately, is disillusioned with this precarious period of peace which cannot last. We must be prepared."  
  
Trade was at an all time high and political efforts were made to disband the more lethal weapons- deeming them unnecessary in this time of peace. Thriving planets attempted to outdo each other with their humanitarian contributions, ultimately to the detriment of less wealthy systems. At that time, cloning technology had reached a rather uneventful plateau and if it made the news at all, it was to relay news of yet another failure.  
  
Foreseeing the latent significance of such an advancement, Leopold created yet another subsidiary of Tlaska to compliment their bioengineering section: Curel. And so it was that Lord Sidious became the anonymous benefactor of Tlaska's hidden treasure, Curel.   
  
  
+++++++++++  
Blavnor, Mandalor  
Curel Headquarters  
Lower Levels  
+++++++++++  
  
  
Leopold Trafalgar stepped into the security lift and pressed in the code that would take him below floors, each button reading his fingerprints. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he rolled back and forth on his heals, and dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. The lifts always felt rather claustrophobic, but today seemed exceptionally so. When he reached the bottom, he exited to a decontamination room and passed through a retinal scan before heading down the long white hallway. Void of anything that might mitigate the austere, angular lines or break the glossy white he directed himself into the belly of the whale.   
  
Leopold had not walked this hallway in years, not since its success had skyrocketed. The door opened to him and he was immediately greeted by his old friend, a lanky lizard-type who he had left in charge during his retirement. Leo, what brings you down here? Is everything alright? Why didn't you call first? We could have greeted you upfloors.  
  
The two embraced. No need. I've just come to see about your progress. Other unfamiliar faces garbed in white robes stared at him from behind their consuls.   
  
You are worried about Fianat? That she's gone public? Wek propped one of his four arms onto Leopold's back and he lead him further inside the clinical workspace.   
  
It was much cooler down here, but Leopold found himself dabbing at his forehead nonetheless. Everything running smoothly then? He tried not to notice the workers, though he could practically feel their eyes drilling him curiously. Wek opened a door that lead from the bright florescent lab to his old office.   
  
I've been sharing your old space if you don't mind, the scientist said as he lead them to a couple of comfortable chairs.   
  
The muted browns immediately comforted Trafalgar as he sunk into one of his old familiar chairs. Ah, now this feels better. I think the light bothers me out there.  
  
You get used to it, Wek waved at the air casually.   
  
Looking around, Leopold found it interesting to see so much of Fianat in here. A picture of her as a little girl still sat on his old desk, and there were now plants and flowers adorning the once very masculine office. You can tell she's been down here alot.  
  
Yes, I can see that, he chuckled fingering the tropical leaves of a bird of paradise. I think she's taken up your love of flora and fauna.  
  
Ahh, those were just pet projects.  
  
So was this at one point.  
  
Nodding, Trafalgar sighed lost in thought.  
  
But you're here for an update. So let me tell you where it stands. Wek crossed his legs and folded both sets of hands across his lengthy torso.  
  
We've been shipping out embryos to Byss System quarterly. The first shipments are fully trained and ready for departure.  
  
How many ready to go?  
  
About 10,000 troops.  
  
That's not enough. He asked for at least 25,000. What else have you got?  
  
We have a younger shipment out on Eleandor, I suppose they could be ready, but they are only 15 years old. So you have a sale lined up?  
  
Acquiescing, he pressed his lips together and tapped on the armrest of his chair. How many there, on Eleandor?  
  
Another 10,000 troops, pausing, he went on to question his plan. Would you like me to make arrangements? Are you sure this transaction is secure?  
  
Mmh. No problem, but he specifically requested 25,000. Certainly you must have more, it's been 25 years.  
  
I know, but it's been difficult in acquiring human DNA. We must cut and paste together live samples; we can't just synthesize these organic bases.  
  
He nodded. Can't you speed up the growing rate?  
  
We're still experimenting with that. Encouraging the cells to duplicate at an increased synchronized rate often generates abnormalities. However, we do feel the product we have created is superior.  
  
Undoubtedly. You've created the perfect human species.  
  
Leo, you make me blush. Your daughter has had a great deal to do with it, you know.  
  
Don't tell her about all this, Wek. She has enough to think about.  
  
His counterpart paused then agreed reluctantly, tapping his twenty fingers together symmetrically.   
  
Do you think you can have them ready for deportation in a few months?  
  
I'll see what I can do.  
  
Dabbing at his forehead again, Leopold got up and thanked Wek profusely. Thank you for your loyalty all these years. They touched hands walking to the door, but before he exited back out into the labs Leopold stopped and turned once again to his friend. I do have one more question, Wek. Fianat is not planning on taking this division of Curel public, is she?  
  
No, no, no, Wek's green slender head nodded. The galaxy isn't ready for this yet. She'll keep that under wraps for a while and work within the health sector. She just accepted her first deal to grow organic tissue for the Kaiser.  
  
She had mentioned something about that the other day, Leo fanned himself absent-mindedly.   
  
HMO's will be begging her business.  
  
Satisfied and smiling proudly, Leopold allowed himself to be escorted back up to the main floors and departed with a satisfied grin.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Negotiations, the following day  
+++++++++++  
  
  
Enlighten me then, Ambassador, as to why we should forfeit our slaving rights? And even if we did release them, where would they all go? Our system surely couldn't support one billion unemployed miscreants.  
  
Not any one system could, Trafalgar threw in as a side note. It surprised Obi-Wan that he was listening as his bloodshot eyes had been closed the last half hour.   
  
After a long draw of stalemate contemplation, Kiltma broke with silence. The Chancellor has bid me ask you to consider a transition to droid labor, Kiltma leaned forward on his seat, his sweaty palms open in an offering of good will. Even though Senator Palpatine had asked him to delay the offer, he didn't have much faith in the senator's true understanding of the situation. If he could convince the governor to trade, he'd be the hero of the hour, but it was going to take his best bargaining skills.  
  
Chlak's eyes burst from their sockets in surprise. How could this be? Suddenly very nervous, he dialed up his assistants and juggled the holodisks before him in a panic. Although the group noticed the odd behavior, their attention was now on Kiltma.  
  
The Chancellor didn't really propose this, but he was speaking in the Chancellor's stead, so that was probably okay. Besides, it was a well known rumor that the OASR planned the same attack, only he would be able to save them the trouble. The governor would be far more willing to hear his proposal on the matter than any OASR representative, even Chlak.  
  
But Kiltma did not receive the reaction he expected. Throwing back his head dramatically, M'ztka forced a laugh from his gullet. Please don't tell me that's your trump card.  
  
Chlak stopped short; the governor's reaction was not surprising, but disappointing.   
  
As if on cue, two assistants wheeled in a cart loaded with docudisks surrounding the failings of over twenty systems in their efforts to convert live labor to droid machinists. Taking a handful of disks, he threw them on the table. Go ahead, gentlemen. Review. You'll find the cost far outweighs the benefits  
  
Obi-Wan grimaced at the piles and piles of documentary and began sorting through the data half-heartedly.  
  
Chlak, on the other hand, jumped on the idea. What if another system tried it out first? His information wasn't exactly first hand either, but the OASR wouldn't mind if offered the deal a little earlier than planned. And since it was already out on the table, he improvised. We could arrange for a committee to analyze the data and work through the mistakes these have made. Gesturing toward the docudisks, Obi-Wan noticed the Sullustian voice grew with excitement at the proposal, pleased at himself for having offered something.  
  
Like two peas in a pod, Kiltma supported the idea. Yes, we'll need more help. Economists, Ergonomic Specialists, Financial Efficiency Experts....   
  
Chlak was already contacting the OASR before his counterpart finished the sentence. And, jumping on the band wagon, Kiltma began barking to his two assigned assistants while M'ztka slumped back in his chair.  
  
Very well, then, I invite you to prove your point- that all this research is null and void- but I assure you-  
  
Its a god damned waste of time. M'ztka turned to Trafalgar quite pleased to see him be of some use, no matter how disheveled he appeared.  
  
I suppose that's one way to put it. The governor tapped his fingertips together casually and while Kiltma and Chlak were contacting here and there, more assistants rushed in and out. And although Obi-Wan found it difficult to read past M'ztka's stoic guise, he had a strong feeling that Kiltma and Chlak's energies were being wasted on a lost cause.  
  
Nevertheless, he felt obligated to review the material and picked up a couple disks.   
  
  
  
+++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Governor's Palace  
+++++++++++  
  
  
Hours, dreadful hours, went by and the group finally began to speak of breaking for the day.   
  
Elia gathered her things hurriedly, and hoped the Jedi would not try to insist on coddling her any further by escorting back to the clinic. She was embarrassed enough about yesterday's little episode without him mistaking her as an incapable woman.   
  
She hated men like that. Women of Dathomir treated men poorly, and while she had tried to conquer the bias, she had seen far too much sexism in the galaxy to entirely overcome the prejudice. Although she did not find Obi-Wan deliberately chauvinistic, it annoyed her that Li'sarrow put him in a position not to trust her with that whole incident with Relvaire and the Nimitz.   
  
  
*  
  
Obi-Wan sensed Healer Amelia felt pressured to the Simmians, to somehow clean the slate with Li'sarrow and herself. Overall he felt she wasn't too fond of him, and the idea made him self-conscious as he predicted they would be spending a great deal of time together. She also made it perfectly clear that she was not interested in his assistance or his presence in general but he had promised Li'sarrow to look after the healers.   
  
After another rather fruitless day of negotiations, he worried about offending the healer again by suggesting he walk her back to the clinic. So to avoid anymore resentment, he presented the question in another manner and asked if she might take him by the labor residence.   
  
Of course, but I'm surprised you're interested in seeing the residence, she commented in a flat voice.  
  
Why do you say that?  
  
I think you would gather more information to report back to the Council at one of the work sites. What difference does it make to you how they live?   
  
Her sharp tongue was beginning to irk him, but no matter how much he would have liked to give her the kind of comment she deserved, he withheld his voice and settled for a vague, unrevealing answer.   
  
Slavery is illegal either way, but there are ethical laws that planets like Bonadan must abide by in addition to the tax.  
  
A sarcastic uh-huh' hung in the air, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He may not have been as in sync with the Living Force as much as the healers, or someone like Qui-Gon, but he was not the heartless bastard she was taking him for. Maybe she was disappointed in the realization he was not going to support the Simmians anymore than he supported the OASR or CSA or M'ztka. In any event, he did not deserve the treatment he was receiving.  
  
Refusing to humor her further, the conversation remained stalemate until Lepkaum came into sight.  
  
Beginning again, he resolved to smooth things over. That seems like an inordinate amount of security for a residence, he commented after having noticed the high electric fence and guard towers.  
  
Elia deliberately tried to make up for her curt, cynical attitude earlier, but it still frustrated her that he was being so nonchalant about the issue of slavery. Yes, this is the Lepkaum Manufacturing Residence. It's workers make trinkets and mass produce faux jewelry. Brushing passed the remembrance of last week and the girl's necklace, she continued to narrate. The plant houses over 5,000 Simmian slaves, a relatively small outfit for Walkar.  
  
Why such a need for security?  
  
Intimidation. They want to make sure the Simmians know their place. But the government will tell you otherwise. It is for their own safety, so they say.  
  
Obi-Wan did not respond, but knew if the Republic was aware of such conditions, support for the OASR would skyrocket. So far, though, his impressions from the Healer seemed to be one sided. How could he find out more about the system of slavery from a more objective viewpoint? He would have to do some research on his own. Although he listened attentively to what she had thus far contributed, he wondered how accurate her picture truly was, and how much was simply a incensed reaction to slavery in general. Reminding himself not to get too swept up in her arguments, he withheld any comment through her short commentary.  
  
Why don't we go inside? I'll show you around.  
  
I surmise if it wasn't safe, you wouldn't have offered.  
  
Within no remark other than a half-hearted affirmation, she rounded edge of the facility and stopped before a huge wrought iron gate. Just inside, a booth guarded the entrance before another gate. LeTauktch, its me, Healer Elia.  
  
She didn't raise her voice or seem to direct it anywhere in particular, though no being was present besides the two of them. Then, moving to the left of the fence, she held onto the bars and seemed to speak to the tree. Let me in.  
  
Who's that with you? an old voice grunted in Simmian from the bush.  
  
This is Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. He wishes to see the residence.  
  
I'm not supposed to let you in without medical concerns. The voice switched to Basic.  
  
I know, but I just want to show him a quick peek.  
  
A pause lead Obi-Wan to believe her request had been rejected, but in a second or two, the gate slid aside on an unseen track. Although it wasn't quite dark outside, the shadows seemed to grow the moment they stepped through the gate. Leading them through the gate and short entrance, she softly rapped on the booth's door.   
  
The door whooshed back and they entered the dark, confining space. Barely enough room for the two of them, the Jedi lingered outside the door peering into the rigid hovel, but stepped in when it nearly bisected the length of his body. With scarce enough room to turn around, Obi-Wan pressed up against Elia and craned his neck to see around her.   
  
It was the first Simmian he'd seen in real life, and he wondered if they all looked like that. A soft iridescent fuzz covered the stringy man's body, similar to the Bondani, but their facial features were very different. Large walnut shaped eyes dominated their rather rectangular face, and he was surprised to see they had no whites. Their whole eye was like a large opened iris, lined with a silvery purple. The man stretched out his legs before him as if comfortable in the small space, but promptly shifted them out the way as the Healer moved toward him. Touching hands in the customary gesture, she introduced the guest.   
  
Jedi Kenobi, this is LeTauktch, the gatekeeper.  
  
He stood to touch hands, and Obi-Wan, though not an exceptionally tall man, belittled the Simmian's diminutive frame. Bent and crooked, his small mouth creased in an odd sort of way.  
  
What are you doing here? You shouldn't be rummaging around here like that. They've got eyes you know.  
  
Oh stop with that non-sense, you're going to frighten away our guest. Its not all that treacherous here.  
  
Not for you, it isn't. How many times a day do you get poked with those sticks they carry? LeTauktch rubbed the side of his back.   
  
Rolling her eyes, Elia tapped his shoulder and the old man leaned forward and began to purr as she rubbed and scratched his back. Ahhhhh. OOOOOhhhhhh. SSSSShhhhhhh. On and on he went, 'til Obi-Wan intruded with a guttural grunt. His eyes scoured the technological den. What is it you do in here? Elia eased off him, and scooted aside to show the display panel.  
  
I monitor the outside fences. See, these screens show the action. Ah, that's right. You're eyes can't see it. But its there. Clear as day.   
  
What do you mean we can't see it?  
  
He means human eyes aren't very sensitive to light. Skirting the subject, she refocused on the point of his visit. So can we go in?  
  
Why do you want to do that?  
  
A single look and he surrendered. Alright, you can go in. But keep in Cell A.  
The healer smiled and tilted her head affectionately. Grabbing Obi-Wan's arm, they slid through a dark opening and into a long wider hallway, listening to LeTauktch's reminders.   
  
The dim lights rendered the walls a yellowish brown. Why is it so dark in here? Are we underground? His logic denied the question had even been asked, but his senses told him otherwise. Even the air was cooler, like in a cave of sorts.  
  
The Simmians have been bred to work the mines for generations. Their skin has paled and their eyes have become incredibly sensitive to light.  
  
I noticed the enlarged irises.   
  
She nodded. Although he was beginning to feel claustrophobic, the healer kicked out her heels at a brisk pace and rounded a number of corners without hesitation. Where are we? They'd made no known decent, and yet he was certain they were underground. He swallowed to encourage his ears to pop at the change in air pressure. The whole plan was making him nervous, like when he was stuck on Bandomeer in that mine shaft. He expected danger, but there was no evidence to lead him to believe so. Where are you taking us?  
  
We're almost there. He sighed heavily as if to evince his disapproval when the cavern fed into an octagonally shaped recreation facility. From this central location, one could view a nursery, a medical unit, the mess hall, library, and correctional droid posts. Large plexiglass walls allowed the visitors to view directly into the facilities where machines whirred away endlessly, and small groups of Simmian workers went about their duties.   
  
Entering the plaza, Elia introduced the Well Care Circle. As you can see, everyone's at work now. The next shift will bring in hundreds.   
  
They don't all work in these facilities, do they? He peered into the busy rooms wondering if they could see them lingering outside their windows.   
  
No. The ones who work here are very fortunate. Most are at the manufacturing plant down the street. Toddlers played in an open room with colorful plastic blocks and toys, while a soundless library slept next door.  
  
How do they get there? He craned his neck upward towards the soft yellowish lights that illuminated the chiseled ceiling in shadowy pockets.   
  
Through this and other tunnels like it.  
  
A giant gate towered at the ready to smash down any rebellious escapees. The design was centuries old, and Obi-Wan felt there were many more modern and effective methods of restraining people. That decrepit gate doesn't appear as if it gets much use, though I assume there are lockdown restrictions?  
  
If they don't check in at certain locations like the plant, they are retrieved by guards with standard consequences. Depending on the number of demerits, that could mean extra work detail to solitary confinement. Outside of work, they have morning and night electronic check-ins. However, as long as they make those check in times, they are free to visit Walkar, the Vending Station, the clinic, and a few other select locations.  
  
What's that? The Vending Station?  
  
It's a outdoor public market across town. Skirting the edge of a gurgling pool that bubbled into a large puddle, they ambled closer to the windows.  
  
Do the Simmians sell goods there?  
  
Sometimes. But they're issued a minimal stipend for their work in the form of vouchers which can be used to purchase personal items and whatever other luxuries they can afford.  
  
Is it possible for them to purchase their freedom?   
  
In theory.  
  
It did not sound as severe as he had originally hypothesized. It's different, but these conditions certainly aren't poor, he commented as she read his subtle reaction.   
  
It's not the terror you expected, she remarked, hoisting her hand onto her hip. But of course that's not the point.   
  
She felt comfortable in here, he noticed. But he also noticed the keen eye waiting in expectation for him to comment on the evils of slavery- which he purposely avoided.   
  
Let me show you the medic quarters. He followed behind her silently, observing each detail. She lead him to a hallway from which one could access all the Well Care Rooms. Pressing her thumb into a decoder, the door whooshed open, and she let him step in first, placing her hand on his back.   
  
Healer Amelia. Welcome. Were you called upon? Behind a long counter, a medroid questioned her as she came in. No. I've brought Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi with me to view the facility.  
  
Obi-Wan wondered if the droid might protest, but it did not. As they passed beyond the counter into a world of white, he whispered her in ear. So the healers have a strong rapport with the Medics?  
  
Medics? This is it. It's only the Medroids. Live medics are too expensive. A few other resident halls have them, not Lepkaum.  
  
He nodded as she lead them into a treatment room equipped with all sorts of supplies. They seem to be well stocked, he commented ambivalently.  
I suppose. The healer poked her head into a couple treatment rooms, but realized these facilities must seem rather insignificant to him.   
  
Where are all the patients?  
  
Long term care is handled as outpatient medroids in the Simmians private quarters. These rooms are for immediate care.  
  
He said nothing else and she might have interpreted it as disinterest if she hadn't suspected he was deliberately withholding comment.   
  
Well, that's about it, she sighed ambling loosely back towards the door. On the way out, Obi-Wan noticed another room lined wall to wall with tissue samples. He paused momentarily, but Elia didn't seem to think anything of it, and so he stepped back into pace behind her.   
  
As they came back upon the guard booth, LeTauktch pulled Healer Amelia aside and whispered to her deliberately out of ear shot of the guest.  
  
We've heard news about Aklina.  
  
She gasped. Has there been an accident there?  
  
No, nothing like that. We've heard they adopted synthetic androids.  
  
You've got to be kidding. Tlaska owns Aklina, and they'd never do such a thing.  
  
I know. Please find out. We are anxious to hear if this true, he touched her elbow gently in supplication.  
  
She agreed, but guessed their information had been askew in some way. However, she didn't want to press the issue with Obi-Wan waiting so close by.  
  
As she passed through the gate after the Jedi, he asked if all was in order. Yes, no problem.  
  
Knowing his suspicions were aroused by the enigmatic, unrevealing reply, she avoided his gaze and slipped out of Lepkaum baffled by the mere suggestion.  
  
As the gate doors closed Obi-Wan still had many questions, but held back to see if she might volunteer more information. Instead, they headed back to the clinic in a state of obligatory small talk.   
  
  
  
+++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
Curel, Inc.  
+++++++++++  
  
  
Relvaire held out an overdone arrangement of tropical flowers. They were so bright, so large, one might have mistaken them for silk. Fianat rolled her eyes from behind her desk, setting down her data pad. Buzzing her secretary, she asked why the unexpected caller was not announced earlier, only to be told that he came bearing gifts.   
  
You bought this downstairs, she sighed half-heartedly, folding her arms across her chest and falling back into her chair for a breather.   
  
He snickered back and abandoned the exotic display on the coffee table, waltzing towards her as if he were concealing the real treat. So, how's business, he inquired evasively, locking his hands behind his back.   
  
Same as it was last week, she responded drily, arching an eyebrow into a frozen pose of soon-to-be irritation.   
  
He knew she held little tolerance for sycophancy, so he moved on to the point of his visit. I understand you are in the cloning business, now. I thought I might offer you a new proposal.  
  
And what would that be?  
  
He held up a finger. Before I get to that, though, I'd like to ask what you've heard from that addict brother of yours? He hasn't been much for reporting to the CSA.  
  
So that's why you're here spying for the Corporate Sector Agency. You want to know about negotiations.  
  
He leaned forward on her desk with a feline suavity his thighs pressing into the edge of her desk.   
  
Not missing a beat, she crossed her legs and pushed back from her desk. Where's your wife?  
  
The corners of his mouth wrinkled into a disappointed smile as he rounded to the other side her desk. Swiveling her chair to face him, but refusing to stand, her face lifted as he neared her. He merely stared down at her until she interrupted with reality.  
So you have business proposition? She stressed the word business as if to discourage him from anymore of the ridiculous drama.   
  
It's more a piece of advice really. He lifted a haunch on the corner of her desk to which she frowned and raised her eyebrows until backed off. She watched his lengthy frame wander away. True Mandalorian stock, tall, bronzed, short clipped peppery hair.   
  
Withdraw your stock in Bonadan.  
  
Standing, she followed him to the door with crossed arms. And why would I want to do that?  
  
The look was obvious.   
  
Even if I thought such an act might be wise, Tlaska's not mine- yet.  
  
He lingered as she stepped up close enough to touch him. If Junior doesn't call within the next couple of days, I'll be in contact again.  
  
Like you need an excuse, she teased, glancing away from the starry long look that dwindled on her face. Instead, she opened the door and held out an arm in closing.   
  
  
  
+++++++++++  
The Governor's Palace  
Obi-Wan's Private Quarters   
+++++++++++  
  
  
Static buzzing from a poor transmission, Qui-Gon's tin like voice was barely audible. How goes...situ... on Bonadan?  
  
Obi-Wan, played with the tracking on the view screen. Thankful to have the opportunity to consult the Jedi Master, he continued to fill him in on the current state of affairs.  
  
M'ztka refuses all proposed treaties and nearly laughed in Kiltma's face when he suggested replacing the workforce with droid labor. He will not bend, Master.  
  
I've been informed of the situation on Huab. The slaves will only be freed if the trial period is proven to be 20% more profitable than current slaving- which looks unlikely.  
  
Master, the situation for the Simmians is grim, their lifestyle despicable. His opinions flew easily and honestly with Qui-Gon, yet he did not expect the other's reaction.  
  
It seems your experience there has been a great influence on your judgment, but there are many items to be considered, the Simmians' plight just one of many.   
  
Obi-Wan found it interesting that Qui-Gon neither affirmed nor rejected his summation of the situation, but simply noted that it had changed since his viewing of Lepkaum. Wasn't this to be expected? Was he out of order? But as usual, Qui-Gon did not elaborate and cut the conversation short before he could ask about OASR progress.  
  
The OASR has formally called for a vote, either slavery will exist or not. If the Senate cannot make a decision within one week, the vote will be forfeited to the courts. Either way, it will buy us some time. A number isolated groups are banding together to reinstate an interstellar army to demand Bonadan remain a part of the Republic if they vote out slavery, but many fear the power of militant central government, as it is said to invite tyranny.  
  
Qui-Gon took a deep breath and leaned forward on his knees. Remain weary of who you trust. I feel a disturbance. May the Force be with you.  
  
His master's last comment left him doubling his suspicions of the healers and while he was now able to better understand the passion exerted for the movement, he would nonetheless remain cautious of tipping over this house of cards which may potentially hurt many in the long run.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++  
Three Days Later:  
Walkar, Governor's Palace  
Governor M'ztka's private office  
+++++++++++  
  
  
Slithering back into his dark hole, the satin lined robe shuffling behind, M'ztka entered his private office. Sitting in the stillness, he sighed at the pressure which, like a vise, gripped his forehead. Basking in the cool, calming blues of nightly shadows, he opened his eyes to a red light bleeping on his desk. Unable to tolerate its obtrusive presence, he stabbed away at the button, and a holo recording danced on an ornate pedestal. A confidant Din punched in data on a transfer before beginning.  
  
I'm sorry to hear you're not available, but I thought the good news couldn't wait. The Senate has chosen to suspend the vote to enforce the antislavery laws until the OASR can offer a plausible alternative. Unfortunately, that seems unlikely to a great many of us. A number of systems, including Bewwt, Urma, and Flekora have agreed to back our cause in case Chancellor Vallorum gets a little too comfortable with his powers. I'm forwarding you the most recent media coverage from here on Coruscant. It's rather encouraging. Just keep stalling them. I have a strong feeling, they'll come around when they realize what's truly at stake.  
  
The image folded like a genii back into its bottle. Plopping back into his plush throne, M'ztka switched on the attachments and listened as Mon Mothma tried to rationalize how redistributing wealth would improve the economy. Smirking, he knew no one in the galaxy would allow the OASR to decrease their profits. Especially not rich idealists. The rest of her soliloquy faded out of his thoughts until the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn appeared.   
  
We are currently designing a trade treaty with Bonadan that will incorporate both ethical and pecuniary standards. However, negotiations can be time consuming. Until we can agree on a satisfactory arrangement, Bonadan will maintain its workforce as well as continue tribute to the live labor tax.  
  
Rocking his head back and forth, the corners of his mouth curled as he contemplated the futile efforts of the abolitionists. They would never be able to extinguish humanity's instinctual nature for dominance. Jedi or not, no one was going to threaten him.   
  
Unimpressed with the Kenobi character, he wondered if together they might try to somehow schwindle him out of his status, though independently they didn't seem like much.   
  
He was more worried about the Healers, who had played upon the public's sympathy one too many times in the past. Since the Relvaire incident, public opinion had swayed in his favor, but that could easily change. As a branch of the Republic, it was critical both the Jedi and the Healers remain an enemy to the state if the governor was to maintain the support of his own people for he could not afford to fight the galaxy and his own kind. With interest in the Relvaire case dwindling, he would have to do something to keep the motley crew in the limelight- something to discredit them once and for all....  



	5. Aggressor

Aggressor 

+++++++++++++++  
Walkar  
Governor's Palace  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
A few weeks of negotiations dragged on, and nothing new had arisen. In fact, Amelia was utterly bored with the whole idea already. It was apparent to her that M'ztka would never support a change over and Chlak was wasting his time on feeling important. M'ztka may have shown up on time just to spite Trafalgar, but he left within the hour, leaving the rest of the group to do the dirty work of ascertaining years and years of accumulated research.   
  
Thaum had agreed to pick her up early as they were planning a trip to Curel to replenish their medical supplies. As it was the end of the week, she was glad to be able to abandon her post early.  
  
Thirty minutes later, she was still looking over holodisks. With time to kill, she had purchased some snacks from the verandah cafe where she and Obi-Wan drank tea. The dampened looking crowd that had grown to include more than ten assistants was eternally grateful for the quick break and energy refill.   
  
Sitting next to Obi-Wan, who was buried beneath four toppling stacks of disks, she commented on his stamina and handed him a grain bar. You are much more dedicated to this lost cause than I am.  
  
Ignoring the discouraging comment, he asked why she was still here and nodded in thanks at the welcome gift of food. I thought you said you needed to pick up some supplies.  
  
Thaum was supposed to be here nearly an hour ago.   
  
Biting off half the pastry in one huge gulp, his eyebrows pinched together.   
  
I'll give him a call, she said seemingly satisfied, and refilled his glass with a nearby pitcher.  
  
Taking a sip of the blue liquid, he replied in thanks. I could have walked you, you know. Not to mention that there are other means of transportation besides your feet, he wanted to say, but didn't need to stir things up again as they were just beginning to get along.   
  
Yes, but honestly, I didn't want to have to be here all day. Plus, its a long walk to have come all the way back.   
  
It's really not a problem; it's better to be safe with such a high degree of hostility.  
  
No. Thaum will be here any minute. Unless of course you're trying to get out a little early as well. She raised her eyebrows mischievously.  
  
He just stared at her, unshaken by the ridiculous suggestion.  
  
I'm just kidding. Amelia took pleasure in teasing him, and glanced over his shoulder while she tried to buzz Thaum.  
  
She was relieved when he answered. Hey, it's me. Where are you?  
  
I'm sorry. I'm still at Lepkaum. The guards held me up.  
  
Why? That's unusual. The guards at Lepkaum were familiar with all the healers.  
  
I'm not quite sure, but maybe you should come down here and get me.  
  
Alright. I'll leave now. She paused momentarily wondering what the problem could be. Connecting to the Clinic she explained the situation to Ruebyn.   
  
I can't understand why the guards would do such a thing...  
  
Ruebyn replied soberly. I'll send Meerpa and Tetre. Ask Jedi Obi-Wan to bring you back to the clinic. We don't need this situation to escalate.  
  
Disconnecting, the healer closed her eyes in concentration. When she opened them, the Jedi had turned his full attention to the healer. What did Ruebyn say?  
Let's head out there and see what's wrong.  
  
Sensing a ripple in the Force, Obi-Wan looked over to her expectantly and but she seemed oblivious to it. Let's go, he commanded and they were up and out the door.  
  
Obi-Wan kept up a brisk walk through the Palace halls, and although he sensed something off, he didn't want to alarm his companion. Where is he?   
  
At Lepkaum. He said they were holding him for some reason. Suddenly, he recognized a shimmer in the Force that alerted him to serious danger. We need to move, he commanded, but she was already beside him, aware now of the urgency.  
  
Just as quickly as they shoved their way into the lift, Obi-Wan threw her out the door and they sprinted across the marbled entrance hall through a painstakingly slow rotating door and out on the crowded streets.   
  
Thankfully vehicular traffic was limited to the upper levels and they were able to dart between the two walking lanes easily. He can't be far, she shouted over her shoulder as irate citizens spouted vulgar comments to the two as they raced passed.  
  
Two blocks later, her muscles felt as though they weren't getting enough air, but her insides warned her that Thaum was in serious danger.   
  
A couple of paces ahead, Obi-Wan directed her vision to a semi-circular ring of incensed Bondani. The people formed an angry barrier just outside the Lepkaum gates, arms waving as they shouted obscenities. Penetrating the circle aggressively, Amelia sought out Thaum's condition with the Force, but it didn't hit her until she saw him unmoving, caught in an awkward position of unreal proportions- behind the fence flanked by three guards.   
  
Panicking, she searched her right and left for a way inside, but all she found were elbows and angry fists. Obi-Wan might easily sail them both over with the Force, but the gate was capped with an aerial grid.   
  
Shaking the bars in frustration she yelled out to Thaum. I'm here, Thaum! Let me in. I'm a healer! Please! Then it dawned on her. LeTauktch! Le LeTauktch! It's Elia! Let me in! Fighting her way back through the crowd, she ran back around to the bushes and called out again.   
  
The crowd though, having just identified their new prey, tried to gather the others attention. It's a healer. Why you...   
  
Backing away from an obese Bondani, she looked around for Obi-Wan who suddenly appeared between the two of them, his lightsabre brandished. But others were coming in from across the street.  
  
We've got to get over the fence, but it has an energy grid. Is there any other way around? Obi-Wan questioned, exhibiting little faith in this Le LeTauktch character.  
  
LeTauktch, please, let me in, she called in desperation, spinning around to face the oncoming crowd.   
  
Get away from the fence, a voice commanded from the bush, and even before they had the chance to move away, the fence sizzled with electricity followed by horrible screams and the smell of burning flesh. Opening now, the voice announced from the bushes, and the two pushed their way through the distracted crowd and burnt Bondani. Climbing over the victims as the gates opened, she stumbled the short distance to Thaum.   
  
Immediately they were met by armed Gammorean guards which had now doubled in number. Surrounding him in a circle, the imposing group dared them to challenge. I am a healer. Let me treat him, she entreated leaning around their large frames with eagerness.  
  
We're detaining you for questioning, the leader announced and two armed guards hobbled forward to restrain their suspects.   
  
Keeping his lightsaber up, the guard used his gaffer stick to try to knock his weapon out of Obi-Wan's hands, but instead, the stick went flying off into bushes. As the guard reached for his blaster, Obi-Wan kicked him back as three other guards ran towards him.   
  
Taking advantage of the situation, the healer kicked out at the nearest guard's hand, and grabbed for the vibroblade hidden in her knee high boot. Attempting to slip by him in the distraction, another guard appeared from behind and grabbed her across the chest pinning her arms. Lifting her feet off the ground, she kicked into the face of another guard, leaving the other off balance. As they fell back together, she wrenched herself free from his grasp and darted the ten yards to Thaum's body.   
  
The fallen guard tossed out his stick, catching in her legs. Pummeling her shins, she crashed, wrist and elbow first, against the rock hard cement.   
  
Somewhere in the background she heard the voices of the crowd increase in volume, but her attention remained on Thaum as he lay in the middle of the stampeding melee of guards as three more came rushing out of the tunnel.   
  
Out of sight, Le LeTauktch slipped from the bushes and tried to pull Thaum out of the way. As soon as he was seen, one of the newly arrived guards waddled hurriedly for the Simmian slave but Elia yanked up the stick, and just had been done to her, spun into the guard's legs.   
  
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan continued to deflect close range blaster fire back into the large bodies of the surrounding boars, easily keeping them at bay. Slashing off an armed hand, he ignored the squeal that followed as another fell back. Strategically keeping close to Elia, he took down two more guards in a long swipe that cut straight through their hollow weapons. When free, he rushed towards Elia who had just fallen near Thaum, deflecting blaster fire as he ran.   
On the ground, Elia kicked into the back of an oncoming boar's knees and rolled away from his grasp, quickly hopping up. Two more rushed towards her furiously, sticks upraised. Blocking one blow with her machete length vibroknife, she was able to duck under the other until Obi-Wan reached her and cut him down.  
Finally free to assist her fallen friend, Elia knelt at his side. Closing herself off to emotion, she ascertained the medical situation, forgetting all other concerns.   
  
  
*  
  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, the Jedi observed LeTauktch slip away into the bushes. Jogging to the dark hallway, he checked for guards, but sensing its emptiness, returned to Elia. We've got to get him out of here. What's the easiest way? But she didn't seem to hear him.  
  
Lost in concentration, Elia was able to lie Thaum out flat on his back. Completely unconscious, he had been hit by what appeared to be blaster fire in two locations, though the wounds were exceptionally large. Focusing on the most serious injury first located in the mid upper torso, she slipped one hand under his back where the blaster fire had entered and the other on top of his chest where it had exited. Warm with pooling blood, she squeezed the wound tightly and closing her eyes, she felt deep inside him for damage. Left collapsed lung, internal bleeding and no assistance or equipment. Gathering up the Living Force to heal what she could, she closed herself off to the sounds outside the gate.   
  
Obi-Wan looked around fervently for an escape. The gathered Bondani had become even more excited by commotion and the crowd outside the gates grew larger by the moment. Suddenly the gate sparked again, and the crowd lurched back away from the electrified fence in a roar. One could hear the sizzle of flesh as the fence seemed to falter. Appearing again from the bushes, LeTauktch announced that it would soon short. There are too many people. As he spoke the electricity sputtered and buzzed out in a few short clicks.   
  
The frown on Obi-Wan's face was hard, but calm as the people would soon learn that without the gate electrified, they could slip through the small opening that remained. How do we get him out?  
  
Follow me.  
  
Elia said from beneath closed eyes.   
  
No. We've got to go now, Obi-Wan protested glancing back up at the fence, as Bondani tested it for electricity.   
  
In her touch, the healer felt the Force work through her, rejuvenating each broken cell at an impossible rate, to which she felt Thaum combine his own efforts. In seconds, they were able to reach into the deeper tissue, and the organ began to regenerate itself. Although Elia was concerned about the internal bleeding pooling inside the lung, Thaum was suddenly coughing, sitting up in the process. As he did so, the throng of people shared a universal gasp as the news traveled from the center to the circumference of the gate.  
  
Healer Thaum, you're alive! LeTauktch announced excitedly. Although he too found it utterly impossibly that Thaum should be able to get up with the dark red blood covering the front and back of his once white tunic, he nonetheless hurriedly them along.  
  
Resurrection nearly incited a riot on the streets, and Bondani began shaking the fence violently until finally they began working together to slide the fence aside manually. We need to go. Obi-Wan hooked his shoulder under Thaum's arm and helped him up following LeTauktch into the bushes where he soon disappeared. This way...  
  
Winding back into the darker passages of the facility, they came out once again into the sun. By this time, Thaum was able to walk independently, and they loaded into the hovervan where Tetre and Meerpa waited.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
They had carried Thaum into one of the two treatment rooms, symmetrically across the patient quarters to the right of the entrance. The room was tiny, so Obi-Wan held back behind the door and watched Tetre and Elia calmly lay hands on their peer.   
  
While Obi-Wan expected an efficient scrambling for technologically advanced paraphernalia, he was surprised to see a quiet language of unspoken needs expressed in the very air of the room. What were they doing, he wondered. Listening closely, he reached out with the Force to understand. Forming a divine trinity, the three healers opened themselves to the Living Force and the room seemed to radiate like a mysterious heat. Candles lit spontaneously and the air stirred incense canisters with sweet pungent scents of herbal potpourri. Obi-Wan's body relaxed at the lotus like scent and he seemed to be pulled into the room like a maelstrom might suck one deep into its depths.   
  
Ruebyn stepped up behind the Jedi and nodded her head. Seeming satisfied, she touched Obi-Wan lightly on the arm and told him he was needed elsewhere.   
  
The air had become thick with healing herbs, and he too found himself entranced by the intoxicating scents, such that he found it difficult to push himself away from the door frame into which he had sunk.  
Come with me.   
  
  
*  
  
  
She took him by the arm and led him to the common area where a holo of Li'sarrow waited. Master Li'sarrow, Obi-Wan bowed as he reached the transfer image.   
  
Returning the formality, she momentarily looked past him to Ruebyn who gave a her a reassuring confirmation that Thaum would make it. The master healer closed her eyes in thankfulness and lifted her shoulders. Thank you for assisting my healers, Jedi Obi-Wan. No doubt the authorities will be there shortly. Let them in. We ask that you speak on behalf of the healers at this time. Ruebyn, do not respond unless you must. No need to give the media any more opportunity to construe our intentions. I'll make an address here before I leave for Bonadan. May the Force be with you.  
  
She disappeared without answering any of his questions. Ruebyn knew far more about his matter than he did. What would he say? She must have truly feared for the healers safety to ask this of him, though she must have known he was prohibited from entangling himself in such planetary legalities. His efforts, no matter how logical, could very well endanger negations, and the peace of the galaxy. Grunting, he foresaw yet another legal battle before them, one in which he technically should not interfere, but was now left with no choice.  
  
At this point, Meerpa burst in and announced the presence of a dozen vehicles bulldozing their way down the road. Out of breath she asked about Thaum. When satisfied, she hoisted her hands on her hips and began pacing the room. Okay. What did M'Li'sarrow have to say?  
  
Obi-Wan brushed passed her out of the common area to the reception's front window. They're here.   
  
Li'sarrow's making arrangements to come out. I want you to stay with the patients until we're through with the authorities. Ruebyn floated higher and gazed down at Meerpa, daring her to refuse.   
  
Huffing, but turning away, Meerpa disapprovingly ran to the resident quarters, taking a long look at Obi-Wan standing ready to open the door.   
  
Civil authorities pounded on the door. This is the Security Control. Open the door or you will be charged with ....  
  
  
*  
What's wrong, Healer Meerpa? Who is here? Lusina sat up in bed.  
  
The guards are here to take us back to the mines! another elderly patient exclaimed.  
  
No, no! Healer Thaum was injured today, but he's fine. A gasp and a sigh was let out at once. Then why the authorities?   
  
I don't know. Meerpa turned to the two elderly Simmians laying in adjacent beds. You don't need to worry about this though. Smiling she announced she would give them something to sleep.   
  
They complained, but she stirred up the lotus potpourri next to their beds anyhow, and set two additional canisters next to the three other sleeping patients. Crossing over into the children's sect, she lit a Russian vase of lotus and promptly shut the door. Thankfully Kiana had dozed off after reading a story to Li'Tala, so Meerpa returned to the elderly wing to wait.  
  
  
*  
  
Shutting the door to the treatment room, Ruebyn nodded to allow the officials in. One Bondani and three armed Gammoreans whittled their way in. Media attempted to crowd their way in behind them, but Obi-Wan made a human barrier behind the officers his palm smashing into the face of an unwanted reporter.   
Where is the criminal? the Bondani detective barked, ambling into the building with pretentious airs. Fingering his lapel, he peered in through the resident windows, to which Meerpa promptly shut the blinds. In here, huh? He stepped quickly to the door, but Ruebyn positioned herself in front of him. No, he's being treated elsewhere.  
  
Listen, wench, you better tell me... Peering down the length of his nose, the guard grabbed her smock and shook it. Clutching his hands and ripping them off her chest, Ruebyn levitated over the man and spread her wings fearsomely, lest he challenge her authority again.   
  
Obi-Wan quickly stepped between the two. All you need to know is that he is being treated at this time. Why is it you wish to see him?  
  
Who are you? You're not one of the healers. The detective smoothed back his iridescent hair, and shiny pieces the littered the air about him.  
  
How observant of you. If you want to see the healer, we need to know why.  
  
I don't have to explain anything and as long as you are on Bonadan, you are not allowed to interfere with our government. Now where is he?   
  
Obi-Wan firmly planted his hands on his hips. We need to know why he was held back at Lepkaum.  
  
This is our jurisdiction! the Bondani official spat in his face temperamentally, his face glowing with red hot anger.  
  
Obi-Wan noticed the guards grow agitated and shift their raised weapons nervously. Reverting to the Force, Obi-Wan suggested they bring Healer Thaum to Security Headquarters the following morning. Waving his hand before him, Obi-Wan hoped his suggestion skills would be strong enough to overpower the authority's mind.  
  
Although Ruebyn understood Obi-Wan's method, she nonetheless found herself in disbelief when the Captain ordered his men back out the door, and that they would expect Healer Thaum to visit them tomorrow morning. Clutching her heart in relief, Ruebyn thanked Obi-Wan profusely. I wouldn't have let them take him.  
  
Realizing he had been holding his breath, Obi-Wan exhaled inaudibly, and watched to make sure the group left. When they'd gone, he followed Ruebyn back into the common area to call for further instructions.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
The onset of evening...  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
Hearing the guards stomp out, Tetre and Elia left Thaum to rest with the help of a sleeping agent, and slipped out the room. Thanks, Jedi, Tetre shook Obi-Wan's hand, then peered out the front windows. Holocams circled the growing crowd while protesters chanted unintelligible rhymes and waved banners.   
  
Keep your heads down, Ruebyn commanded as she stepped in from the common area after contacting the Council. Obi-Wan's been asked to make a statement.   
  
The Jedi gathered his bearings by pulling his hood over his head and tucking his hands into his robe.   
  
You? Why not Ruebyn? Elia demanded to know.  
  
But before he could answer, Ruebyn floated towards her. The Council believes the media will react more favorably to a neutral source.  
  
Popping her head in from the resident quarters, Meerpa responded angrily. What is all this bullshit about the media? Who fucking cares what the media thinks?  
  
Calmly, Obi-Wan turned to address her. The OASR is concerned that their efforts will lose support. Their point is legitimate; they need all the resources they can gather at this point. Obi-Wan thought about Qui-Gon and Mon Mothma's efforts on Alderaan, and did not wish to jeopardize their plans to any degree.   
  
Well, what are you going to say? Meerpa demanded, but softened her tone with a look from Ruebyn. Obi-Wan ignored her and turned to the door.  
  
I'll escort you, Healer Amelia stated and stood to face him.  
  
Obi-Wan awarded her with a hard gaze. Though logic battered at his conscience, something told him he should trust her.  
  
Jutting out her chin, she answered for him. You do not have a choice.  
  
Stay behind me. Brushing passed her, the door opened and he stepped through. The words burned her irritably, but she let it slide. And in the second before the door closed, Meerpa tore around the door frame to accompany the two outside.   
  
Fondling their concealed weapons, the two healers flanked the Jedi as he stepped onto the porch. Holovids loomed towards them instantaneously as protesters shot inaudible obscenities. With the new attention, the line of people burst at the seams towards the base of the steps as if they might rush the facility at any given moment.   
  
Scanning the crowd and listening closely with the Force, Obi-Wan paid keen attention to every aspect of his surroundings. Two net-vans were parked about 50 feet from where they stood, and a half a dozen hovering holorecorders or holovids, swarmed about to shoot the event. Overall, the crowd appeared as ordinary citizens with a couple reporters and holocrew.  
  
Even as the protesters quieted, their fervor did not as a few stray comments flew here and there over the tops of the crowd.   
  
*  
  
A light sweat beaded around Elia's brow as a heat overtook her. There were far too many people here to defend the clinic should it become under attack. Her palms clenched at the ready, wiggling her ankle with the comfort of her vibroblade pressed in the side of her boot.   
  
She hardly realized when Obi-Wan had pulled back his hood and begun. I speak on behalf on Healer Ruebyn and the Healers at this facility, as well as the Jedi Council.... She heard him introduce himself, but wasted no time on his words. Rather she attempted to quiet her anxiety, and mentally prepare for whatever may come.   
  
You are currently at odds with the Republic and we understand you believe they are treating you unjustly by enforcing the anti-slavery laws. However, let me make it clear that the healers have no part in the decisions made by the Senate, nor are they here to enforce that those laws are obeyed. Their statutes are limited to medical conditions which, unfortunately, are being interrupted by this protest. You should return home and let the Senate settle what it has begun. His gaze remained serious and he hoped he had articulated his expectations as cleanly as Qui-Gon might have.  
  
Yet no one moved to go and after what seemed an infinity of stillness, a low rumble of voices threatened to break free, and the group became agitated like a swarm of buzzing bees. We want to see Lazarus! someone finally shouted above the movement.  
  
The Healer injured today will be brought in for questioning tomorrow morning. Interrupting their excitement before they became entirely unruly, Obi-Wan spoke up once more in finality.  
  
I must also state for the record that we will defend this premises to the highest degree should it be threatened in any way. At this, his eyes wandered across the crowd expectantly. The moment was soon flooded with a torrent of accusations and loaded inquiries, as Bondani shoved one another back and forth in the crowd.   
  
  
*  
  
  
Healer Elia blindly viewed the crowd as one mutinous mass bubbling with eagerness to overtake the clinic when she should have noticed the Bondani woman pulling back the thread on her crossbow.   
  
Sidestepping the arrow just as it whizzed by, Obi-Wan pulled out his lightsaber.   
  
*  
  
  
Meerpa saw the arrow gleam out of the corner of her eye, but within microseconds it had pierced the door. The crowd gasped, ducking as ammunition bolted over their heads from what appeared to be hovering vidroids. Frantically dispersing, they looked around amongst themselves to view the attackers but the fire seemed to be all around.   
  
In the back of the crowd, a woman dressed as a reporter loaded for another shot. Sighting her, Obi-Wan immediately pounced over the crowd, kicking out the dangerous holovid as if it were an airborne soccer ball. In tandem, Meerpa and Elia sprang towards the perpetrator narrowly missing more blaster fire from out geared holovids. Barely clearing the distance populated by nervous protesters, the crowd shot out in all directions. Plowing into the two healers, the Bondani ran into each other as they tried to avoid anymore threatening projectiles.   
  
  
*  
  
  
Obi-Wan planted his landing firmly, avoiding any protesters that lie in the way of the shooter. Pulling up the right side, Elia held a clear view of the woman and slipped in and out between fleeing people. Unmoved by the chaos that was now spreading like wildfire, the shooter raised her bow to fire again, but instead of aiming for the door, she pivoted sharply to the left and fired towards Meerpa.   
  
Dropping instinctively, the Lemura rolled to the right, toppling a number of people now trying to escape to their transports. An armed holovid was instantly upon her, but she was able to blast it from directly beneath. Meanwhile, she saw three more holovids detect their next target from behind the two netvans.   
  
  
*  
  
  
Across the way, Obi-Wan watched Meerpa drop. Close enough now to see the iridescent skin on the shooter, he leaped up into the air to take her from behind. Reloading, the girl swooped back around and caught the Jedi's kick in the edge of her crossbow. Twirling parallel to the earth, he smashed face down into the dirt, his boot tangled into the corner of the attacker's weapon. Ripping the crossbow back into her control, the ferocious woman hurled the edge towards Obi-Wan's back like an ax. Log rolling out, the Jedi swung back onto his feet just as the weapon uprooted a chunk of earth. In the time it took for the woman for wield the weight of the unloaded crossbow, Obi-Wan repositioned his saber, ready for another attack.   
  
Opening her arms wide, the woman taunted her adversary, inviting Obi-Wan to challenge again. Sensing Elia coming in from the right, he flew into a front attack, and Elia tackled the unsuspecting woman from the side, the crossbow flying out of her reach. Tumbling on top one another, the woman was able to flip Elia off in a single kick.   
  
Quick to respond, Obi-Wan pointed his glowing blade towards the woman's neck when blaster fire erupted from a second source barely missing him as he whipped around to deflect it. Unable to view the new sniper in the dimming light, more fire appeared from the opposite direction, perhaps behind the netvan, but Meerpa was on top of it.  
  
It's the holovids! she called out, wielding her machete around to charge the hovering seeker droid. Rolling underneath it, she stabbed at it from under its belly.  
  
Meanwhile, the attacker, now free from the threat of Obi-Wan's lightsaber, popped back up and swept the Jedi's feet from under him. He fell to his back, rolling out efficiently, and was able to continue to block the blaster fire now aimed at Elia as she came back at the woman with her vibroblade.   
  
Brandishing a short dagger of her own, the woman swiped at Elia even as more blaster fire pounded around them. Seemingly undisturbed by the fire, the fierce woman back kicked at Elia who spontaneously ducked. But pirouetting in one fluid motion, the woman the followed through with the electro-dagger and snagged it across Elia's collar. Pouncing away too late, the healer's chest dropped low, stunned.   
  
Obi-Wan moved in quickly, back handing the woman across the face causing her to fall back onto Elia. Simultaneously battling the armed holovids that now moved in for close range attack, he yanked at Elia's free arm and pulled her from the entanglement.   
  
Deflecting fire back into one of the holovids, Obi-Wan jumped back as the floating electronic device shattered into metal pieces.   
  
Seeing her protection being quickly eliminated, the woman took one last effort at the Jedi by flinging her electrodagger directly at Obi-Wan's back, but Elia shoved him aside as the spinning blade narrowly missed its target.  
  
Flipping back over the scattered crowd, the attacker disappeared behind a netvan. Catching up, Meerpa closed in from the left and charged after her as Obi-Wan finished off the last of the holovids.   
  
Darting through the pockets of people, the woman reloaded as she ran, sliding over a protester's speeder. Springing over the top of the netvan, Meerpa barely missed contact with an arrow as it whizzed by her. Sprinting around the other side, Elia vaulted over a blockade of filming equipment, just as the woman straddled a swoop and turned up the thrusters.   
  
Slowing in long glides, the Jedi and healers narrowed towards each other, gulping in oxygen greedily. Kicking out shaky legs, they glanced back and around to scope out the new situation.   
  
Fear vibrated amongst those remaining as they scurried to their personal transports and took off in a cloud of dust. By this time, the netvans had also departed behind the armed woman, leaving them with little clues about her identity. Nonetheless, when the three of them reached the top of the steps of the clinic, Obi-Wan yanked the steel barbed crossbow from the door and retained it for evidence, hoping to explore more later.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
Coruscant  
Indescript Location  
+++++++++++++++  
  
Lord Sidious watched the holo with little surprise, as one could have easily predicted these turn of events.   
  
*******************   
Today in the capital of Bonadan, a riot broke out between the native Bondani and the Jedi Healers. Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, mediator at the current negotiations, spoke on behalf of the Healers:  
  
You are currently at odds with the Republic and we understand you believe they are treating you unjustly by attempting to enforce the anti-slavery laws. However, let me make it clear that the healers have no part....   
  
Master Healer Li'sarrow, Acting Director for the Region, also commented on today's disturbing event.  
  
Why are the healers still on Bonadan if their lives may be in danger?  
  
As a provision to the live labor tax already in effect, the Senate and the Jedi Council both agreed that the clinic should remain functional as long as slavery exists on the planet. Extra precautions will now be instated to ensure their safety while carrying out their duties on Bonadan.  
  
Why has a healer been allowed to join the Negotiations?  
  
The healers have been an important part of Bonadan society for the last five hundred years, since the Simmians were conquered and contributing to the overall welfare of the Simmian society. We felt that since it was the Simmians future we are debating that they should be allowed some voice in the process of their futures.  
  
Why not choose a Simmian? Why choose the same healer that allegedly murdered the Simmian slaves?  
  
The Courts will make their decisions based on the truth, not on public opinion.  
  
And what of the violent reaction to the protesters?  
  
We are still investigating the details of the attack on the clinic............  
  
*********************  
  
Lord Sidious was pleased to see the female agitator had not been recorded on film, and was irritated by the attention it drew, but in the long run, hoped the situation could be manipulated to his benefit.  
  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Governor's Palace  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
What would you like me to do, Governor? the assistant asked rather impatiently. The images of the riot flashed on the holo behind him, but M'ztka's back was to them.  
  
You see, Svil, it doesn't matter. The healers will hang themselves, and I'll be a hero for it.  
  
Svil's eyes widened in surprise. You don't want me to send out more guards?  
  
Why bother? The whole galaxy has seen what they are capable of. With pressure in the Senate, the Jedi Council will have no choice but to pull them. Din has just informed me that he is rallying to have them removed.   
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++  
Folklorum, Alderaan  
Qui-Gon's private quarters  
+++++++++++++++  
  
  
A knocking at his door woke him from a light sleep. He had tossed and turned most of the night preoccupied with a bad feeling. Throwing back the sheet, he answered the droid's knock to find a call waiting for him from Cato Antilles. Calling for lights, he ambled to the front parlor and sat in front of the dual hololink.   
  
Preparing himself for bad news, Qui-Gon sat down rigidly and wiped sleep off his face. When he saw Cato formally dressed, he expected the worse. Sorry to wake you, but you have to see this.  
  
A second later, the connection transferred to newscast detailing the events on Bonadan. The report followed up with a statement from Mon Mothma.   
  
************************  
  
We now go to a live press conference by the Senator of Chandrila:  
  
An attack on a Republican funded health clinic is not only immoral, but illegal. Stronger measures must be taken to control these types of outbursts. If Bonadan cannot control their own-  
  
************************  
  
The situation had escalated in what he sincerely hoped to avoid, and he worried that Obi-Wan would feel pressured to solve the problem entirely independently.   
  
A beep interrupted, and the cast diminished into the top right hand corner of his screen while Bail reconnected.   
  
Have you heard from Obi-Wan?  
  
Qui-Gon did not like the way that question was phrased. When did the incident occur?  
  
A few hours ago. Mon Mothma and I have made arrangements for your departure tomorrow morning.  
  
The Jedi considered protesting, but thought the better of it. Thank you.  
  
Before anymore could be said, the connection was interrupted by a call from from Bonadan. Relieved and worried at the same time, he quickly said his good-bye and clicked over.   
  
The sight of Obi-Wan safe was some consolation, but his anxiety was now at its height after viewing the newscast. I'm sorry to wake you. It must be the middle of the night there.  
  
Ignoring the comment as if it didn't deserve a second thought, Qui-Gon calmed himself before beginning. I heard you had somewhat of a minor crises today.  
  
Obi-Wan ran his hands over his head and exhaled heavily. I'm sure you saw the whole event over the holo. I'm at the clinic now and I'll be staying here tonight, just for safety's sake. M'ztka declared a temporary state of emergency and declared a two day hiatus from negotiations, so I might stay longer. I don't think anything will happen tonight though.  
  
How can you tell?  
  
M'ztka can't publicly denounce the healers because he'll be breaking a treaty agreement- all that paperwork we signed the first day. So he's encouraged people to allow the law to handle it.  
  
The law?  
  
Yes, Healer Thaum will be called in for questioning tomorrow. Reportedly, the guards detained him, but did not shoot him.  
  
What was he detained for?  
  
That continues to be a mystery. He's sleeping now, though apparently in perfect health. Although I didn't see the blast with my own eyes, I did see the blood. And that was not a recoverable wound.  
  
A silence followed, and Obi-Wan shook his head.   
  
Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Qui-Gon interrogated further. What of the aggressor? Do you know who she is?  
  
Unfortunately, no, but I am inclined to believe it is more than just an angry protester. She must have armed the holovids and programmed them to attack the three of us right before the statement was made. Images of the incident seemed jumbled now even though it had taken place only hours before.   
  
You've contacted the Council?  
  
He nodded.  
  
Then get some rest. I'll call before I leave tomorrow, and if all goes well, I'll be there within the week.  
  
Qui-Gon paused here and sat back, emitting a heavy sigh. I'm glad to see you're well, padawan.  
  
Good night, Master.  
  
Obi-Wan clicked off the holo and stretched up and sideways, rubbing his eyes. When the communication ended, Ruebyn forced herself from the couch and announced she'd prepare the open treatment room for their new guest.   



	6. Self Disappointment

Self Disappointment 

++++++++++  
Blavnor, Mandalor  
Curel Headquarters  
++++++++++  
  
  
  
Did you get it? Fianat was asking the question even before the door was shut.  
  
The Mandalorian bounty hunter did not apologize. You didn't tell me a Jedi would be involved. Everywhere she went, he was there.  
  
Fianat pounded her desk with a fist. When I made the arrangements, I didn't know there would be Jedi involved!  
  
The oddly dressed woman shifted her weight from one foot to another and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
Did you at least get the other?  
  
She withdrew a small white disk from her shoulder bag and tossed it onto Fianat's desk.   
  
This is the Filipian? The professional snatched it up and plugged it into her computer.   
  
What do you think? You saw it on the holocast.  
  
Tapping her fingers rhythmically, Fianat watched the screen as the translated files downloaded. Excellent. But you know you won't get as much for this.  
  
Flinging her hair over her shoulder and throwing her hands on her hips, she asked how much.  
  
D1500 ducats. Fianat did not care about the displeasure that creased across her business partners face, but added encouragingly, D10,000 when you bring me the other.  
  
It's worth that much to you, huh? Why don't you have one of your little black market runners pick it up for you? Swaggering her hips as she ambled on over to the overdone desk, she knocked on the expensive wood and pet the deep green leaves of a bird of paradise. But you knew they couldn't handle it, right?  
  
Fianat was not easily intimidated and stood to meet the other's eyes. And that's why I offered the job to you.   
  
The bounty hunter walked away satisfied enough, and Fianat was immediately contacting her partner.  
  
Lord Sidious, Fianat dipped in a short courtesy. I have good news.  
  
The dark clad man reclined ever so still as she made the announcement.   
  
We've just obtained the Filipian's blood. We should be able to isolate the healing gene in a matter of days.  
  
But you don't breed Filipians, do you?  
  
As a humanoid, we're sure it will be compatible with our current subjects. We will introduce it to the clone population on Byss as soon as possible.  
  
Unmoved and unresponding, he just stared ahead neither pleased nor seemingly dissatisfied.   
  
I'll contact you with more information later, with a overdone smile, she efficiently ceased the connection.   
  
As soon as his image faded, she tossed back her hand dimissally. Senile old man... He doesn't know what he's got.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Bonadan  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
The riot had calmed to an alarming emptiness, and while they had waited vigilantly for more guards, or some kind of authority figure to control the situation, none came. One by one, the healers disappeared to their own rooms. Finally abandoned, Obi-Wan eased into one of the two benches on the porch, and kept watch.   
  
  
*****  
  
The sound crept up from the greenhouse. Stilling himself further, Obi-Wan held his breath to listen more keenly at the intrusive disturbance. Footsteps padded softly in the dirt.   
  
Easing from the bench, he rounded the building, stealthily keeping to the shadows that hugged the cinderblock walls.   
  
While his own footsteps silently tread the path, the others increased to a clear sprint. Dashing off to follow the source of the sound, the Jedi rounded greenhouse and kicked into high gear as a form crested over a subtle slope and out into the darkness.   
  
They began to howl, those beasts, from their perfect niche of camouflaging shadows. He stopped to listen. The pat of their paws echoed around him, and he remained trapped as a statue as they began to circle. Brandishing his lightsaber, he prepared to cut them down should they attack.  
  
  
*   
  
The lone figure shone in white on the rays of the moon, miraging against the moors. she called, betraying the safety of her location for the sake of the animals.   
  
Elia glanced back over her shoulders and bolted into the night, sucking in oxygen efficiently. The Selves were quick upon her heals, as was the Jedi. Her legs responded with agility to the new demand, and the wide open beckoned.  
  
Elia? Look out! he called out ahead keenly aware of the animals on his heals and yet insistent on catching her. What are you doing? It's not safe out here! When she ignored his heated inquiries and warnings a second time, he reached out to halt her, and tackled her across the midriff.   
  
As he plowed into her back, she arched and tumbled to the side, barely touching the earth as he whisked her around to break the fall. Stop running!! he yelled twirling out of the fall.   
  
Clawing at his hand around her waist, she hurdled out of his grip and sprinted up the next incline. Her muscles burned up the slope, and she felt herself slow near the top, and dizzy, spun around as Obi-Wan leaped towards her.   
  
  
*  
  
They circled in a pack, stalking the pair from a safe distance, rearing back and forth in the excitement. A new leader had not yet taken her place and they scrambled anxious to attack.  
  
*  
  
  
Barreling his chest into hers, he grabbed at her wrists to disarm her of the vibroblade that appeared in her hand, and they tripped down the backside of the slope. In a futile crash, he lay heavily on her ribs and yanked the weapon from her grasp, though this time it was clear she had no intention of resisting for the Selves held back timidly in the raucous.  
  
The back of her head bluntly bounced off the barren grasses and her chest constricted fearsomely. A darkness blotched her vision to which she couldn't rub out, and the blackish cloud of ink that syruped from her psyche smeared across her eyes. (Out, out damn spot!) Nausea licked her, but the grip of wheezing led her to aggressively shove off the attacker. Still caught up his arms, she rolled to her side and coughed in stunted asthmatic heaves until she gagged.   
  
Patting her back with the flat of his palm, Obi-Wan crawled closer to her and buried his face in the powdery grasses to catch his breath. As she settled, he scanned the horizon on which the Selves had withdrawn, and turned his attention back to the healer.   
  
  
She should have died hereafter  
There would have been time for such a word  
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow  
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day  
To the last syllable of recorded time  
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the   
Way to dusty death. Out! Out, brief candle  
Life's but a poor player that struts and frets  
His hour upon the stage, and then is heard  
No more. It is a tale told by an idiot  
Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.  
  
  
Squishing the base of her palms into her eye sockets, her face scrunched into a mask-like frown and she tilted towards him. What's wrong? he quizzed her, surprised to see her so vulnerable. Hooking his hand under his head, he rolled to his side, and gently rubbed the bump on the back of her head. LeTauktch is dead. I just received word from Lepkaum. Drawing in her elbows, she clawed at his arm, begging him to fold her in. Unable to refuse, unwilling to rebuke her, he wrapped both arms around her tightly when she began to cry. Methodically examining the source of this outburst, he restrained himself from peppering her with more questions and just let her be. Thaum, Relvaire, Li'sarrow, M'ztka. Empathizing with her grief, he felt her powerlessness, her frustration, her loss. She cried as if to mourn her own existence.  
  
  
*  
  
Stirred by the banshee's song, the Selves whimpered away, looking like a defeated Cerebus on the horizon.  
  
*  
  
Bracing the back of her head, he sat up, her legs tucking beneath her as the two folded in a bundle on the dirt. After wiping her nose on the bottom of her shirt, she dropped her head back against Obi-Wan's chest. Nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, she hooked her arms around him and squeezed with every ounce of energy she had left. He sat up taller and gently had to scratch at her arms to let up, lest his floating rib be sacrificed in his humble efforts at empathy.   
  
Please don't make me go back yet, she whimpered in a controlled breath.   
  
Refusing to be beyond the earshot of the clinic, when a few calmer moments passed, he squeezed her arm and authoritatively announced it was time to return. We can sit outside in the front if you don't want to head back in.  
  
Sniffling, she wiped her eyes and huddled under his wing as they ambled towards the clinic.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
An hour later, when all movement in the clinic had settled into a blessed fogginess, Elia revealed another haunting element of her grief.  
  
So I guess you heard about what happened in the SE Nimitz? She glanced up at Obi-Wan who sat across from her on the bench out front. Shifting for comfort, she leaned against the stiff armrest picking at her fingers. Li'sarrow sent me out there a couple of months ago. I was assigned thirty chronically ill patients who were dying of genetic mutilation after being exposed to a highly radioactive and carcinogenic substance called DiQaerma.  
  
Obi-Wan thought back to M'ztka's comment when the Healer had first joined the negotiations. The cynical remark suddenly became clear to him.   
  
It is used in raw form to dissolve certain minerals from core azurite. Apparently the Simmians signed waivers in case of injury, and were therefore precluded from medical attention. They weren't stable enough for transport, so I traveled to them.   
  
They all died in my care. She paused to allow this to sink in before moving on the reality of the matter. There's something you might not know, though. The moment I saw them, I knew they wouldn't make it and these burns were incredibly painful. Even though the anesthetic rendered them unconscious, it couldn't solve their problem. So I contacted their closest living relatives, and with their permission, I injected iNervus into their bloodstream. I knew it wasn't a traceable substance, and works painlessly.  
  
Although he wasn't exactly sure what iNervus was, he understood the implication. You assisted in their suicides. The heavy words were expelled in a mixture of doubt and exasperation.  
  
Her head remained bowed, but her eyes spied him for a reaction, or judgment, but she found little other than his usual intense frown. The way the media reported it, I injected them with the liquid state of DiQaerma, and, of course, all Relvaire's records indicated the substance was never used, seeing as there was a interstellar ban on the use of the toxin.  
  
I don't think I've ever seen the people rally for the Simmians so vehemently.  
  
If its not traceable, how did the media get a hold it? His response rolled from his throat, low and deep, encouraging further clarification.  
  
They didn't. I didn't say anything. The Simmians didn't say anything. They fabricated the whole ordeal to cover up the incident. How ironic; its the Universe' sense of justice.  
  
Just now was he beginning to understand what Master Li'sarrow meant when she said Healer Elia will do whatever it takes.  
  
Why didn't you defend yourself or contradict them?   
  
Why bother when the truth was that I had done so much worse? Why expend the effort?   
  
Her nonchalant response elicited a slight arch of the brow as his neatly hooked hands unbuckled. What about the Healers' reputation? Are they not affected by your decision? The youthful baritone in his voice indulated her in guilt, and though he tried his best to be gentle, his reactions seemed to be of little comfort.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Speechless. As if she hadn't covered this territory before, over and over. She failed. She brought humiliation upon her own. The healers, her only family, were now picking up the pieces from her mistake.   
  
But then a change of heart caused her head to bounce up to drill him intensely. Humiliation was the cost for her choice. How could she explain it was the principle? Although she jutted out her lower jaw left and right, salivating for words to pronounce themselves on her tongue, frustration swallowed them back. She itched to say more, to explain herself, but if he couldn't see it for himself, it wasn't worth her breath.  
  
She felt the heat rise to her face. Why should she deserve his sympathy or understanding? And how did she earn his opinion?   
  
Lifting his elbow to the back of the bench, he leaned forward and reached out his free hand to her knee, careful not to touch it. I didn't mean to offend you...  
  
Cocking her head, she spoke over her delicate pride. Not that I feel the need to justify myself to you, but Healers are bound by ethics, not public opinion. And on this planet, it seems the two are often at odds.   
  
A slow intake of air caused his chest to rise, but blinking his eyes slowly, he continued. I can't help you if you don't explain what you mean.   
  
After an extended moment of stubborn silence, she simply stated she didn't want to talk about it anymore.   
  
Shoving himself back against the stiff armrest, Obi-Wan cleared his throat gruffly. Smacking his right foot down on the ground, he covered his mouth with the palm of his hand and began bouncing his free foot irritably. Staring at her behind his half covered face, he finally spoke from beneath his fingers. You don't have to be so difficult for my sake. I can't save you, you know.  
  
Cocking her head to the side, then stretching her spine like a cawing rooster, her mouth dropped. What makes you think I need saving?  
  
Folding his arms across his chest and stretching back, he raised his eyebrows in doubt.   
  
I don't need saving, she adamantly asserted between clenched teeth, People need compassion. Unfortunately, saving is your business, compassion is not. Don't you understand how humiliating it is for me for you to even assume I need saving?  
  
Self-pity can be defeating.  
  
I never thought I would say this to anyone I respected, but fuck you and fuck your stoic narcissistic overview of the world. She poked a testy finger at him before kicking her legs onto the ground.   
  
When she saucily brushed passed him, he slumped his head into his hand propped up against the back of the bench, and mumbled his thoughts.  
  
she bent over into his face doing her best to look intimidating.   
  
I said , it took all possible effort to mitigate the anger singing the words. Rephrasing his thoughts more tactfully, he sat up to face her. Its unfortunate you're feelings are preventing you from acting successfully with the Simmians. M'ztka knows how much they mean to you.  
  
Straightening up, she pierced him with suspicious beady eyes.   
  
The Healers are a valuable asset to the Simmians. He didn't look up lest the effort at controlling his tone be diminished with the disgusted smirk he was sure wiped her face.   
  
Almost disappointed that he refused provoke her further, she turned on her heels and left the silence to make a statement on its own.   
  
Though the door was incredibly quiet, the swoosh echoed down the still foyer. Pausing in the door to Treatment Room A, she gazed into the darkness of Thaum's incensed mausoleum expecting Ruebyn, the angel, to announce, You won't find him here. He's risen!  
  
Just to make sure he hadn't run off, she ambled in and dawdled at his side prodding at the light covers, tucking him in.   
  
As if on the tip of realization that his resurrection had very little to do with her, she wandered out before the idea sunk down into those impenetrable depths.   
  
I don't want this life anymore, and I don't know how to fix myself. Everything seems a wasted gray, and I can't even find the impetus to wish it were better or something else. I can't find myself here, yet I feel guilty for abandoning them before the fight.   
  
  
Before heading back to her room, Elia begrudgingly stepped over to the window and lifted the blinds. Obi-Wan turned abruptly and saw her behind the screen, directly in front of him. Sitting on the bench inside, him sitting on the outside, she rested her forehead against the plexiglass and tapped her fingers, though it was obvious she had his attention, for he looked directly at her. Placing his fingers on the other side of the glass, they touched each others hands. After a still moment, she mouthed the words, I'm sorry, and he nodded, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, she was walking off back to her room.   
  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Blavnor, Mandalor  
++++++++++  
  
  
Shuttling into Blavnor from his estate, Leopold looked down over the Van Gogh fields. From that distance, the land appeared carpeted with vibrant greens splotched with reds and yellows. The technology developed at Curel, Inc. had produced nutrient rich crops heartier than ever before. Proud of what he'd sown, he worried it might all be taken away at the drop of a hat. He was walking a precarious line with this shadowy character, and he did not wish the situation to get out of hand.   
  
Stepping out onto Tlaska's landing platform, he hurried through the glass enclosed automated walkway and into the lift. Bursting into his office, he forced a smile towards his secretary. Any transmissions?  
  
Relieved to hear no, he closed and locked the door that lead into his private office.  
  
He'd just set down his things when his secretary beeped him. Before she could announce the caller, he turned on the holo and ran to step on the recording platform. Lord Sidious, Leopold blundered a bow towards the looming figure.   
  
Have you done what I asked?  
  
Yes, 25,000 bioengineered men are awaiting your signal.  
  
Good. But it doesn't appear I'll be needing them as soon as I originally planned. You'll receive half the sum now, the other half when you're called upon again.   
  
Of course. They are available whenever you need them.  
  
Without a signal of closure, the transmission went clear. Leopold struggled back to a standing position, his hand supporting his back until he was close enough to lean on his desk. Cursing his age, he nearly tumbled back into plush chair contemplating the mysterious message. Still breathing heavily, he rang his secretary to bring him some water. Why bother calling at all? Maybe he was just checking in to see if they had succeeded with the technology he gave them. But anyone who would need 25,000 soldiers was up to something, and he didn't want to know what.   
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Later that Evening...  
Connection between Clinic and Undesignated Spaceport  
++++++++++  
  
  
Obi-Wan sat on the edge of his seat and leaned on the cold onyx table at the clinic. the padawan rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. I've been trying to reach you all day-  
  
Night- I know. The frown on Qui-Gon's face let him know he had been concerned about the situation for some time and was actually gracious for the lay over, as his last transport did not have a public communication center.   
  
I went with Thaum to the policing headquarters.  
  
I know. His master, though waiting hours to find out what had happened, sat back into the cold metal terminal and willed his tension to evaporate off his shoulders. Calming himself, he began again. What happened, padawan?  
  
The guards detained him for possession of a weapon.  
  
Was he carrying a weapon?  
  
Yes. They all carry personal weapons now since the hostility has grown to such a high degree.  
  
Are the authorities pressing charges?  
  
Obi-Wan folded his hands before him. No. The healers are protected under ambassador privileges. Unfortunately, the Bondani were protesting his release as we left.  
  
As to be predicted. Something else is at work here, padawan. Disreputing the healers and Jedi on such a galactic scale.... Qui-Gon's words faded into thoughts.   
I'm not sure what you mean.  
  
He didn't answer, but seemed to change the subject. Unfortunately, most of the riot was holovised.  
  
Good, then the agitator can be identified.  
  
It seems that makes little difference now.  
  
Why do you say that?  
  
Such violence exhibited by the healers seems to support the Bondani's militancy theory.  
  
I feared that. I don't know what to say, Master, other than I'm sorry if it has negatively affected your efforts on Alderaan.  
  
You did well, padawan, and did what you had to do. The OASR is working hard to gather funds to support the Droid Initiative, and it is difficult for corporations to invest their money in a volatile market.  
  
So, ironically, public opinion is playing a large part in the OASR's success.  
  
Correct. Captain Antilles was counting on the populace to write to their Senators to cast their vote in support of Abolition, but when something like this happens, they wonder who to trust.  
  
Obi-Wan understood the concept; he wasn't sure who to trust either. He would be thankful for his Master's perspective on the situation when he arrived for he was beginning to doubt his own judgment. How long will they continue to postpone the vote?  
  
They may not vote at all if the High Courts claim a breach of contract. What does M'ztka say to all this?  
  
We haven't heard from him.  
  
That's odd. I suspect he'll be in contact soon.   
  
There's one more item of business that you'll not be too pleased to hear. Master Li'sarrow has been asked to remain on Coruscant until the riots subside.  
  
Kiana, who had been working at the computer counsels shot across the room to the onyx com table. she exclaimed, leaning over Obi-Wan's chair.   
  
Qui-Gon nodded to the new addition as Obi-Wan quickly introduced her and inquired of the reasoning. Why on earth would the Council do that?  
  
Actually, Senator Palpatine advised the Council that it would suit her best to take care of the Relvaire incident first. His master let the words sink in but soon added a confidant affirmation. Don't worry, and I'll be out in a number of days. May the Force be with you. He nodded to them both and the transition faded out.   
  
  
Breaking into their distant thoughts, Healer Amelia wandered in arms covered in bags. Eager to share the bad news, Kiana leaped to her friend. Elia! M'Li'sarrow can't come out. Who will take care of this mess?  
  
Obi-Wan sat up taller and in a deep formal voice demanded to know where she had been.  
  
Blowing off the welcome, Elia hugged her peer, and gave over a couple of bags along with a med kit. Scooting over the couches, the two tumbled down onto them.   
  
She's been shopping, Kiana pleasantly answered the obvious for her.   
  
I hadn't realized you'd gone.... his head fell distracted. You know you shouldn't leave the clinic, he said quietly running his hands throw his hair and leaning heavily on his knees.  
  
Ignoring his input and purposefully avoiding his gaze, she turned her attention to Kiana who jittered with eagerness around her. Now what happened?  
  
M'Li'sarrow's not coming out.  
  
Kiana glanced back at Obi-Wan who turned out of the com chair and began to amble towards them. Plopping down, he hooked an arm over the back of the couch and explained. The Council denied her request because of some legality having to do with Relvaire.  
  
The older healer's head bounced on her chest and she rolled it from side to side, stretching out the knots that seemed to have permanently formed on her shoulders.   
  
the young Elfin whined, call back M'Li'sarrow. Tell she has to come.  
  
I'm sorry, Kiana, but if she can't leave, she can't leave. You know she would be here if she could.  
  
A dejected look crossed the Elfin's graceful face in way that left the other healer terribly guiltily, especially since the Relvaire case was all her fault anyway. Patting her friend's arm, she changed the subject and opened up the bags she had brought from Curel.   
  
What's all this for? The two dug through the bags of med equipment.   
  
We were running low.  
  
Fluttering down the hall, Ruebyn peeked into the common area. Jedi Obi-Wan. You are still awake? Go lay down. Her pleasant sing-song voice belied the severity of the command.   
  
It's okay. Lay down, Elia agreed glancing over to the unshaven Jedi keeping her hands busy with bags. Lay down. Throwing Healer Elia a harsh look for having been told what to do, he stretched up off the couch and worked his way towards Treatment Room B passing within feet of her.   
  
No complaining, young Jedi, the matronly Ruebyn reprimanded. His exhaustion was evident in the bags that drooped below his eyes and draped from his very posture to which she should have been far more aware.  
  
Wake me if anything happens, Obi-Wan turned to face Elia as he stepped out who simply nodded in reply. Eye contact was long enough to acknowledge that something awkward has occurred between them, but his eyes were soft and seemed to hold no animosity or hostility.   
  
Elia watched him leave the room out of the corner of her eye, trying to look occupied with the jumble of bags before her. She wondered what he could have possibly thought of her after that psychotic episode on the moors. Pressing her cool hands to her blushing face, she tried to wipe out thoughts of the last evening, and trust the Jedi's discretion.  
  
After he'd staggered out, Elia gathered herself together, then dug through the crinkly mess to show Kiana all she'd bought. You should see what Curel is offering down there now that they've privatized the cloning industry- Oh! I wanted to ask how it went down in Tempkar.  
  
They let him go, Kiana answered casually, picking a clear tube. What's this?  
A liquid thermometer. Where is he now?  
  
In bed, resting.  
  
I'll bet he liked that, Elia continued to peer through the bags, but soon gave up and piled them over onto Kiana.  
  
So why'd they let him go? Looking to Ruebyn for more details, she wiggled into a more comfortable position.  
  
He was detained for carrying a weapon but luckily all the holos show he never took it out. Kiana, why don't you put those things away?  
  
The young girl gathered up all the bags rather noisily and bounced around the kitchen.  
  
So they shot him?! How is that legal?! I know Bonadan has a no weapon policy, but Li'sarrow worked that out a long time ago.  
  
the words stood out awkwardly. They claim they didn't shoot him.  
  
Ruebyn reclined sideways on the couch and folded her hands in front of her as Elia began unlacing her knee-high boots.   
  
If only the guards are allowed access to weapons and they didn't do it, then how did Thaum get shot in the first place?  
  
He says he doesn't think it was blaster fire. The soft lines on her face went firm.  
  
I saw the damage, Ruebyn. It went straight through his chest cavity. She kicked off her boots and unruffled her pant legs.   
  
He says it could have been an arrow.  



	7. Breaking Bread

Breaking Bread 

++++++++++  
Bonadan  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
  
Although Obi-Wan felt refreshed after the much needed sleep, he was quickly growing impatient from the lack of purpose. There was little research he could accomplish other than look up where the barbed arrow was manufactured, but when that was done, he was rather at a loss. Tetre had busied him in the patient residence for a while, but when released from this duty, Obi-Wan wandered outside in effort to break the claustrophobia that threatened to drive him insane.   
  
Reviewing Bonadan's disturbing situation over and over didn't do much to mitigate the feeling either. He wished he could investigate more thoroughly, but felt Ruebyn depended on his presence now that she knew Master Li'sarrow was not going to make it out anytime soon.   
  
And there was something else pestering him. Healer Amelia. He worried about her, and that perhaps he behaved inappropriately last night, offended her. He hardly knew her, perhaps it was not his place to comment on her decisions or to offer advice, for she never directly asked for it. But while the healer refused to admit it, she needed a dose of humility; she was no more a savior than he was. He remembered how Qui-Gon worried that he internalized too much. It's true, when he went on a mission, he often felt responsible for solving their problems, and if he didn't, somehow it became his fault that things didn't work out. She couldn't save the Simmians, not the way they needed to be saved.   
  
As if out of his thoughts, Elia stepped out from the kitchen to the rocky pathway behind the clinic that ribboned through the muddy dirt. The sun pierced her eyes as it momentarily peeked through the smog, and she nearly bumped into the wandering Jedi. Oh, you're awake. There was a moment of extended silence as their tongues twisted for words, but she quickly filled the space with a hasty invitation. I'm going to the greenhouse. Want to check it out?  
  
He nodded in agreement, but before she could move passed him, the Jedi stepped in front of her. Wait. I need to say that I'm sorry about-  
  
She held up a hand and her head fell. I'm the one who should apologize, her voice was almost a whisper. You shouldn't have had to see me like that, and you deserve far more respect than I have extended you. Forgive me, Jedi.  
  
When she looked up, his hands were neatly tied in front of him, and his eyes explored the same rock pattern that floated in the sea of pounded dust. When she finished, he politely lifted out of the bow and nodded. You are feeling better, then?  
  
Yes. Thank you, she spoke distractedly, fanning the heat that had risen to her cheeks through those eternal moments. So you forgive me? Raising her eyebrows, she looked up to him.   
  
In response, he smiled with sincerity and pressed his eyelids closed in affirmation.  
  
Oh, good. As she sighed the words, she touched her chest lightly with her fingertips, then hooked onto his elbow spinning him towards the greenhouse.   
  
Thankful for something to distract them from elongating the uncomfortable sentiment, he tagged along as she moved on down the path.   
  
I hadn't noticed you had a greenhouse.  
  
Elia was sadly aware that regular doses of water as well as soil turnover did not yield the desired effect of an inviting field of green to break the generally hazy atmosphere, though the healers determined to continue trying.  
  
It seemed as if nothing would grow in this alkali soil, so Thaum built a raised bed about 15 yards out with imported soil as if anything would look better than just dirt. From the pathway, it didn't look like much more.  
  
I know, the foggy plasteel blends in with the hazy landscape.  
  
Observing the lack of life, he couldn't help but to comment. I see you are going for a winter theme.  
  
She thought she noticed a small crack at the corners of his mouth.  
  
The cool outside breeze dead ended in the humid shack. Hidden away on large, flat waist high beds burgeoned a myriad of greenery.  
  
If it weren't so hot, I think I might live in here, she announced, scooping up a long basket.  
  
I have a feeling you already do.  
  
Oh, I haven't done all this myself. Weaving their way through the maze of beds, she picked up a vegetable here and there, dictating who grew what and why so and so wasn't succeeding.   
  
Obi-Wan followed, intrigued by her enthusiasm. You should have been commissioned by the Agri-Corp.  
  
She threw him a sideways glance.  
  
You know I was nearly a bonafied member myself. My first assignment out of Temple was to assess the independent growth rate of citrus on Bandomeer.  
  
Agri-Corp members don't get promoted to Knights.  
  
Deliberately skirting any further discussion of himself, he wandered away from her and changed the subject. He felt it best to keep the past in the past and left the question at that. Experience led him to conclude that such attachments only lead to explorations of regret. Still intensely curious at the mystery, she stood opened mouthed, but saved the question for later when he pointed to a dew dipped flowering plant. Crebria. See how the buds are lost in the leaves.  
  
The color is fascinating, not quite red, not quite orange, he answered observing the brilliant leaves. Where are the buds? I don't see any. Hands behind his back, he leaned sideways to inspect the specimen.  
  
They're there. They are meant to blend in with the leaves to protect itself from predators.  
  
Plants have predators?  
  
Everything eventually is made victim to predators. Here. Brushing against his arm, she reached over and softly lifted a leaf. Beneath lie an emblazoned yellowish orange flower protected by the cover of her leaves.   
  
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the flaming color and visually distinguish the flower from the leaves. Yes, he saw it, following the contoured lines to her hand he knew how those hands belonged in the delicate world of flora and fauna. How did she end up on such a thirsty, parched planet?  
  
Before she knew it, she found herself rattling off the names of each of the plants as if it were a personal challenge to identify them all.  
  
Hmm. Sorry. It's easy to get distracted in here.  
  
He hadn't noticed she'd been mouthing the categorical names, and made it a point to pay more attention. The Healers devoted themselves to this place, it was clear to him, with neatly laid rows of coordinated plants. He'd never seen the inside of the Healer's most precious art and the invitation to such honored him. The only contact he'd ever had with Healers was at the Temple in his youth. Burns from low powered training sabers, the occasional sprain, or illness. The medicine was in the touch he knew, but did everything they touch flower so beautifully? While her back was turned, he stole another look. She gleamed with empathy; the living force radiated forth from her in even in her casual stroll through the greenhouse. By contrast, he realized his own rigid structure towered through the greenery as if it might be crumpled by such an impostor.   
  
She, on the other hand, stuck her nose fully in the green bundles and dirt, breathing in the fragrant warm. Upon invitation to share, he declined and politely shunned the offer.   
  
Noticing his hesitation to get too close, Elia plucked off a couple leaves from the healthy plant, crushed them, and presented the handful to him. Rather than taking her hand and bending into it, he pinched a tiny portion off and crumbled in beneath his nose. It was far more fragrant than he suspected it would be, having assumed only the most trained connoisseur would be able to differentiate the unique scents.  
  
This should be familiar. Do you recognize it?  
  
Swarming his senses, he recalled the salve he used numerous times to heal simple lacerations. Reaching down to his tool belt, he pulled out a small sealed packet and presented it to her.   
  
Yep. That's it.  
  
He examined the tiny writing on it.   
  
You can also use it on blisters. It will congeal into a protective layer and it has pain easing properties that will soothe the irritation. Glancing down at his calloused hand from saber work, he reminded himself to use it in the future.   
  
As he returned the packet back to his tool belt, she spied his hands. She had treated many a peer back at the Temple, and knew the body of Jedi. Daily nicks and aches unrelentingly pestered them, though they readily set such feeling aside, as if even admitting their existence exacerbated the common annoyance. Elia wondered if he was plagued by such at that moment. Not letting her thoughts wander too far, she quizzed him further.  
  
Do you know what this is?   
  
He'd seen thousands of green shrubbery in his lifetime, and this one looked just like all the others. Why should I know this one in particular?   
  
It sits at the base of the great redwood in the room of a thousand fountains.  
  
The image came back to him. How long it had been since he'd enjoyed a quiet meditation in that forest. Visualizing the greenery, he tried to remember the other details of that room. The ferns, soft spun moss covered earth, a rocky brook....  
  
Bant, Bruck....  
  
Wandering over to the stretched pelt, Obi-Wan felt a strange sensation tingle through him. What is this?  
  
She hesitated before answering, The skin of a beast.  
  
You hunted this beast?   
  
One must not forget the old ways.   
  
Intrigued at this mysterious response, he spied her intensely for an accompanying reaction, but she skillfully rerouted his attention.   
  
There's not much else to see here.... We've got all we need for supper. She held up the full basket like bait.  
  
Turning back to the pelt for one last glance, he ran his hand just over the top of the speckled fur careful not to touch it. There was something horribly ugly, and yet wholesomely beautiful about the coat. Narrowing his eyes, he knelt down before it and caressed the frame. If you really want to leave, why don't you?  
  
She clenched the door frame, avoiding eye contact. Her palms became sticky and the tap, tap, tapping of that hole in her chest resounded alarm. She didn't know how to answer.   
  
Be careful with my skin.  
  
  
*  
  
  
He followed her inside, quickly gaining familiarity with the quirks of her moods. Hoisting the basket onto the kitchen counter, she began to prepare for dinner. It seemed to soothe her to be busy, as it did him, and in between commanding him to grab the cutting board and rinse the vegetables, she picked up with their earlier conversation.   
  
I've been here six long years, but I can't leave now. Bringing a fresh cut flower to her nose, her eyes clouded momentarily and she seemed to forget the running water. Home. What I wouldn't give to be back there.  
  
What do they say? You can't go home again? He took it upon himself to free her from the reverie that drained the living Force from her.  
  
Uninterrupted, she continued. You know what I miss most? Belladonna.  
  
He turned off the water, as she had turned her back on it. Want me to cut this?  
  
She nodded distractedly, One just can't seem to find it on this planet. It's more of a cooler variety though, and wouldn't last here anyway. I remember Leonora, my teacher, used to decorate wreaths with its burgundy colored flower, delicate little things. Breaking the sentiment, she turned the conversation back towards her task, pulling out some pots and pans to hang over the gas brick oven.   
  
Obi-Wan also noticed the herb garden in the window above the sink. There was a handwritten note half stuck to the wall next to it. Don't Forget! Turn twice daily.  
  
Did you remember to turn the plants today?  
  
She hooked up the pot and flicked on the open flame before heading back to the sink to cut more veggies.   
  
The plants. Did you remember to turn them?  
  
She sensed he was being facetious, and stuck out her tongue at him.   
  
he grumbled under his breath as she turned the plants in their little pots.  
  
Pretending to be too important to bother with such insolent comments, she strut off the pantry while Obi-Wan scanned the counter tops for a clean towel. Across the room, she tossed a wadded towel, then heaved out a billowing bag of tutlre.   
  
Are you planning on feeding a starving planet?  
  
She raised her brows poignantly and squeaked a dismissing Humph. Aren't you the comedian tonight? He watched as she measured out four cups of the maza-like substance and dump it in the pot.   
  
How do you want this cut? He held up the spotted green vegetable.  
  
Diced, please.  
  
He wasn't sure what that meant, as Qui-Gon blessedly did most of the cooking. And honestly, those times were few and far between these days as they had been all over the galaxy in the last year.   
  
He began by washing his hands- a good start- but this was soon followed by confusion. She chuckled aloud, gathering the materials he would need to dice the veggies.   
  
Explaining as if he were a school boy, she spelled out the process beginning with, This is a knife. She waved it at him and he stepped back cautiously. Watch out, she's armed.  
  
First, you pit it, she jabbed into the fleshy meat and dug out the veiny seed. Then you rinse and chop into small pieces like so, she demonstrated as Obi-Wan moved in to take over.   
  
Alright. You've proved yourself the culinary master. I think I can take it from here.  
  
Just then Thaum popped in. Hey, Obi-Wan, Master Qui-Gon just rang and said he'd be in at 7:00 S.T.   
  
Thank you. Can you arrange for a transport? He asked politely, temporarily looking up from his dicing.  
  
Yeah, sure. So you're making the guest prepare supper? What kind of host are you? Thaum pinched Elia's sides as he brushed passed her and grabbed a fruit from the basket they had just brought in.   
  
Remembering the claustrophobia from this morning, he was quick to contradict the healer. No, it's alright. I needed something to do.   
  
You're getting ancy out here in the middle of nowhere, aren't you? Elia pointed a narrow canister towards the Jedi.   
  
Aren't we all? Thaum raised his fruit in a toast towards his counterparts before taking a bite.   
  
Elia opened the jar and took a whiff. You don't mind having Cataract Soup again tonight, do you? she looked towards Thaum who shrugged his shoulders and played along nicely.   
  
No, the retina is my favorite part. Tender and squishy at the same time. They waited for Obi-Wan to react in some horrified manner, but he simply replied in an even toned voice.   
  
If you're trying to disgust me, it won't work. You wouldn't believe what I am capable of eating. He didn't even bother a glance up from the cutting board, disappointing the two antagonists.   
  
Spoken from a true galactic traveler, no doubt. But did you know Elia used to be a witch and she has cooked up some pretty interesting dishes for us.  
  
Oh please, Thaum.  
  
Dathomirian. Deny it, do you? What's this in your hand? He snatched it up knowing full well what it was. Eye of Newt. He displayed the canister to Obi-Wan who briefly afforded a quick glance. Now what right minded individual would pour this in her food?  
  
You use it all the time.  
  
Sparingly, I might add. Wandering over to the plants, he turned them twice, back to the position they had been not five minutes ago. Obi-Wan and Elia glanced over to each other and snickered.   
  
What's so funny? he queried as his milky fingertips delicated rotated around the rims.  
  
Elia scoot him out of the way and adjusted them back. I just turned them.   
  
That's a first. Did you give them a little water? When she nodded no, he filled a small watering pitcher and proceeded to woo to the plants. You're thirsty, aren't you little guys? But don't drink too much lest you end up like your cousins out there in Tetre's dirt patch.  
  
Trying not to stare, Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice the oddity. If it had been Elia, he might have let that brewing sarcastic comment slip out. Instead, he interrupted the infantile talk with a question about his wounds.  
  
Nah. There's no mark or anything. I guess it wouldn't have mattered anyway, with what they can replace these days.  
  
Don't minimize your injury, Thaum, Elia reprimanded. You are fortunate to have such incredible healing capabilities, but you gave us all quite a scare.  
  
I know. I'm sorry. He set down the watering can, staring off into the distance.  
She nodded and tapped her chest reverently before dumping in the vegetables. There's only so much technology can do.  
  
But even you would be surprised, Elia. With the opening up of the bioengineering industry, one can special order just about anything. And this extends to organic prosthetics, organs, just about anything with DNA.  
  
Rinsing the cutting board, Obi-Wan asked about cloning. That's still illegal, isn't it?  
  
Not exactly. There are certain limitations to what one may do, but the government is currently establishing those boundaries, so until then, the market is free game.  
  
So I could just walk into a place and request to be cloned? Elia confirmed doubtfully adding seasoning to the now simmering pot.  
  
In theory, but I doubt you could find a placethat would do it. Companies don't want to risk alot, especially now.  
  
Why pursue it then? Obi-Wan wondered aloud, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
Think of the demand for organs alone. A couple of contracts with planetary HMO's and they'd be set for life.  
  
How does cloning fit in?  
  
How do you think they create the organs? Scary prospect, being cloned.... Lost in a daze for a moment, he threw his pit into the decomposer and changed the subject. Need any help here?  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
Trafalgar Estate  
++++++++++  
  
  
Meanwhile, Leopold worked quietly in his study when the com rang. He waited for the droid to announce the caller, but became impatient waiting, so addressed it himself. Not knowing the sender, he opened the link. How can I help you? he asked as the figure materialized before him.  
  
The Sith uncrinkled into a full length holo. He immediately began speaking.  
  
Another Jedi will be arriving on Bonadan to assist with negotiations.  
  
Leopold wondered what this information had to do with him, but listened closely.   
  
He will try to bait the CSA with an offer of criminal exchange. It is your responsibility to make sure that no one agrees.  
  
Afraid to admit he had no knowledge of that situation, he fumbled for the appropriate words to beg for clarification. I'll contact my son as soon as possible. Leopold was instantly sweating, and his fingers blundered like playdough at the unexpected visit.  
  
See to it that he refuses all offers for I have an alternate proposal that I suspect will be to your liking.   
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Bonadan  
Spaceport in Walkar  
++++++++++  
  
  
Qui-Gon gathered up his things and stepped slowly from the transport, stretching his long legs after the four day journey. The second his foot softly touched the ground, two assistants immediately rushed him, then scurried away with his luggage. Like a man of great importance, the other passengers were made to wait until he exited into the spaceport. His master always seemed to carry a noble air that commanded the attention of all those around him and Obi-Wan had to remind himself that it was just Qui-Gon and not another showy diplomat.   
  
Arching his hand out to the side, Obi-Wan beckoned the healer to wait inside as he braved the winds onto the shabby landing platform.  
  
Skipping a formal greeting, Obi-Wan stepped into place beside his master, allowing the elder to pat him on the shoulder as they walked back to the enclosure.  
  
I'm glad you're here. The negotiations seem to have come to a stalemate at the present. As you know, all treaties thus far proposed have been met with ambivalence, at best.  
  
A solution will present itself, Obi-Wan. Do not allow the lack of activity to feed your frustration. Have no expectation that my presence here will greatly change their reluctance to cooperate.  
  
While Obi-Wan disliked the criticism, he found the rhythm familiar and comforting. Opening the door to the bustling crowd awaiting the transport guests, Obi-Wan weaved his way back to where he'd left his compatriot.   
  
I've brought Healer Amelia with me as she seems best able to navigate these parts. He thought back to the spouting steam sewers, but didn't want to tell Qui-Gon that she had insisted on tagging along even at the late hour. Seven standard time turned out to be about 3 a.m. on Bonadan. Nonetheless, the spaceport was bustling as if it abided by no real time schedule. Scanning the multitude of creatures, he recognized her before a florist's display of botanicals.   
  
She always wore her long brown hair tied back in a low ponytail, with the length of it wrapped up into a long clear rolling pin that nearly reached from shoulder tip to shoulder tip. A couple of strays strands poked out the side, and when Obi-Wan called her name, the log rolled over her neck and was suspended in mid-air. She smiled broadly.  
  
After fidgeting with a vendor, she quickly straightened her diminutive frame and took in a deep breath of air. Dwarfed by Qui-Gon's mass, her chin tilted upward, and she seemed to stretch out her body as long as possible to match his, pulling back her shoulders and holding her breath, and then raising her eyebrows.   
  
Obi-Wan could practically hear her say, Wow, is he is big! and although she might not have said it out loud, Qui-Gon noticed it as well. Bowing, he tapped the top of her hand lightly.   
  
I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Healer. Obi-Wan tells me much of you, Qui-Gon released her hand as the words intruded into the realm of the spoken. The lofty Jedi folded his hands beneath the folds of his cloak and blinked over to Obi-Wan. Heat flared up around the padawan's face with such a comment, and he uncomfortably shifted his weight to the other foot.  
  
Whipping passed the questionable utterance, Elia kept conversation light. We've been eager for your arrival as well. Suddenly remembering the handful of flowers, she held them up to the tall man and awkwardly arched her back, her free hand on her hip. Swinging her elbow back and forth, she rocked on her toes and avoided any elongated looks of graciousness, as Qui-Gon lifted the bundle to his nose.   
  
Thrilled and surprised at the same time, she enthusiastically exclaimed, How did you know?  
  
Turning to his apprentice, Qui-Gon lifted the small bunch to Obi-Wan, and stole an observant glance as he was nearly met with a adolescent roll of the eyes.   
  
Instead, Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and with tight lips declined. With this, Qui-Gon smiled to himself, and grabbed Obi-Wan's shoulder affectionately once more. He was pleased to see his padawan as well.  
  
We'll talk about that some other time.  
  
And with that directed moment of silence, attention soon returned to Obi-Wan, who pristinely suggested they get Qui-Gon settled in and get onto business.   
  
Following suit, Elia announced that his luggage would be forwarded directly to the hotel. Would you like a chance to refresh after your travels?  
  
That won't be necessary.  
  
We'll take you onto the clinic then. I know my peers are eager to meet you. Slithering through the mass of people, Elia ordered a private shuttle to take them back to the clinic.  
  
For the moment she was away, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan picked up their earlier conversation. So Chlak introduced the Droid Initiative already?   
  
Yes. The Governor predicted such and had years of accumulated research readily available for our perusal. Unfortunately, half of the information I went through was poorly documented, and for all we know, the bulk of it could be fabricated.  
How is it the Healers have become wrapped up in all this?  
  
As far as I can tell, Healer Amelia did not request to participate in negotiations. However, Master Li'sarrow believed it to be in the best interests of the Simmians to have representation. Obi-Wan wondered if he should confide what he had learned about the girl in regards to the Nimitz, but felt that confidence was not necessarily relevant at this time.   
  
Before they could say anymore, she returned and lead them to the waiting shuttle. Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a look that suggested they would speak more later.  
  
I was disturbed to hear of the riot. None were injured, is that correct?  
  
Unbelievably so, she admitted.  
  
And what of the healer? Qui-Gon inquired.  
  
He has fully recovered, Obi-Wan added still in awe over the whole incident.  
  
Jedi Qui-Gon, I must be honest with you. I feel that my presence is having more negative results than positive. Halting, she turned and faced the older Jedi, latching on his elbow. I don't know what Master Li'sarrow has told you, but before we get started, I need you to know that I sincerely want to help the Simmians, and will do whatever needs to be done to protect them.  
  
He listened to her with a calm complacency and instantly felt the urge to protect her from the imminent danger that hinted at her future. Although he made no remark of it to Obi-Wan, his padawan picked up on the tremor, and in light of all that he had learned of her, moved toward her protectively wishing he'd had seen it earlier.   
  
Obi-Wan noticed Qui-Gon pat her on the back, and hook his hand on her shoulder to lead her to the waiting shuttle. You have acted as you saw fit. There is no shame in that.  
  
Nodding in a half hearted acquiescence, she sighed. There was something about the older Jedi that she trusted beyond a doubt. Perhaps it just made her look ridiculously dependent, but overall, it eased the tension that had prefaced his arrival. It would have been the same with Li'sarrow, she guessed, only she wasn't able to come out just yet.  
  
After she was in the shuttle, Qui-Gon quietly commented to his apprentice. I see what you mean. She's not a diplomat; she wears her heart on her sleeve.   
Obi-Wan nodded and stepped in, wondering if that would be her downfall.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Outside Walkar, Bonadan  
Centrally Sponsored Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
Welcome, Jedi Jinn. We have been eager for your arrival. As you know, we have attracted an inordinate amount of negative attention recently. Ruebyn was glad there would be another Jedi to assist to them if last week was a sign of events to come. She had been greatly disturbed by the riot, and secretly hoped Li'sarrow might come out herself, but she was tangled up in the legal mess with Relvaire's lawyers on Coruscant.   
  
I agree. The galaxy is greatly divided over the situation here.  
  
Yes, we've been watching the holo. People have strong feelings towards slavery.   
The others introduced themselves and greeted Elia and Obi-Wan amidst yawns and subtle stretches. After tapping hands, Ruebyn lead them to the common area, but as soon as the patient residence were in view, Qui-Gon stopped to inquire about them.  
  
Each of the healers began with a separate comment, but Ruebyn's voice carried over. This is our adult ward, and this is our children's ward.  
  
None were injured, you say?  
  
Not from the riot.  
  
Most from the factories.   
  
Qui-Gon lingered outside the windows, the Living Force stretching out from his limbs. Before sympathy overtook him, Ruebyn suggested he sit down after the long journey. Setting aside his impressions, he accepted the hospitality and took a seat on one of the three couches central to the common area.  
  
When the others gathered, Kiana slumped in the doorway to watch the children and Thaum set to boiling tea.  
  
As he sat down, Qui-Gon was still obviously interested in the clinic and its functions. I can see that it is late here. I don't want to keep any of you.  
  
Ruebyn was quick clarify. We've been anxious for your arrival. That is, of course, if you're not too tired from your journey.  
  
Not at all. I am very curious about you facility. How many patients can you accommodate at any one time?  
  
Up to 64 in an emergency. More beds are stored in the walls. Right now we have 8 adults and 3 children. The latest disaster filled our beds, but- Ruebyn's head fell reverently.  
  
What was that?  
  
Meerpa rested on Tetre's shoulder and answered through a long yawn. An aluminize floride chamber sprung a leak and mixed with the air in the ventilating system. They weren't able to catch it until people began suffocating.   
  
Tetre went to to explain. On site we offered oxygen but those whose lungs survived the blistering, needed antibiotic treatment. So we transferred them here.  
Don't the factories have their own medics?  
  
Yes, but the medroids will not treat patients with severe cases if they predict they won't survive. It's a waste of resources to them.  
  
Were any children victims to this event? Qui-Gon seemed seriously concerned at this point, and from Obi-Wan's perspective, seemed fairly adamant on correcting these injustices immediately.  
  
All of them nodded. Unfortunately. Many of the children were not able to overcome the tissue damage, even with the laying on of hands.  
  
No one had to tell the Jedi that the healers were deeply invested in what they do. Yet, he wondered to what level the healers would go to defend the Simmians. Moved by the very tragedy of slavery, he had to remind himself not to let his personal feelings intrude.   
  
Responding to the whistle of the tea pot, Elia hopped up to help Thaum with the tea. What are you serving?  
  
Chamomile D and peppermint A. Since it is 3 a.m. I thought we should avoid caffeine.  
  
She agreed and embraced Thaum from behind. I'm glad you're alright, she sighed. Lifting his right arm, she slithered underneath it and loosened her arms from his waist. Measuring out the teas into a filter, Elia allowed Thaum space to arrange the cups on a serving tray. Then he poured the steaming liquid over the sift and into the narrow chrome kettle, where she dropped the round sieve. Wait, one more thing, Elia pinched in three drops of licorice, to taste, from a small unmarked bottle.  
  
Thaum smiled, and took the tray into the common area.  
  
Thank you, it smells wonderful, Qui-Gon leaned back, warming his hands on the broad cup.   
  
Negotiations will begin again tomorrow, and its hard to predict what direction they might take after this week's episode, Obi-Wan spoke over the steam of his tea.  
I had hoped the OASR would have something more well developed to offer by this time, but they've been challenged with a number of set backs.  
  
The Senate will have to vote, Meerpa stated in finality. Either yes or no.  
  
Tetre was quick to contradict her. Even if they did vote in favor of replacing slavery, they have no way of enforcing that systems comply.  
  
Not yet anyway, Qui-Gon added. There's a great deal of talk about recreating an interstellar army.  
  
They abolished that decades ago, Tetre commented, surprised.  
  
That was when the Republic was at peace.  
  
They won't do it, Meerpa kicked her legs out nonchalantly. Or they would have to share political power with more bureaucrats. Which no one wants to do.  
  
Or they could simply centralize the power around the Chancellor.  
  
Vallorum seems generally a good character, Thaum sipped his tea.  
  
He is, but unfortunately, what we value in him, like honesty, others do not, Qui-Gon added soberly.  
  
Then what are the options? Elia inquired nervously. War? Sweep it back under the carpet?  
  
No, there'll be no moving back now.  
  
A solution will present itself in time. Wholly unsatisfied with the older Jedi's answer, Elia sunk back into the couch, brooding as the conversation continued.  
  
Finally, the two guests stood to leave.  
  
We were hoping you would both stay here, Ruebyn announced as they began to depart.   
  
But all your things are at the hotel, Elia droned sympathetically.  
  
That's not a problem. I must agree with Healer Ruebyn. I believe it is in your best interests if both Obi-Wan and I stay here for the time being.  
  
Thank you, the angel sighed in relief. She had been particularly undone by these events, and she deserved some peace. I'll send for your things and get you some towels. Qui-Gon followed to help her while Elia prepared Treatment Room B for yet another visitor.   
  
I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but you'll have to share your ample space with Qui-Gon. We just can't spare the other room. It's packed as it is. I hope you don't mind.  
  
The accommodations here haven't been the finest, you know. He pretended to be irritated, but she was getting used to his dry humor and just played along.  
  
You get what you pay for, she bantered as she ran down the hall for a fresh supply of linens and towels.   
  
When she returned to Room B, Obi-Wan was already pulling out extra clothing for Qui-Gon to sleep in, as it would be a while before his things arrived and it was already very late. Obi-Wan watched her as she hit a button that extracted a sleep couch from the wall. Pulling off the old bedding and tossing them aside, she opened up the sheets, flinging it right over Obi-Wan. As the sheet dangled in front of his face, he caught it in mid air. Need some help with this?  
  
It took you long enough to ask.  
  
Tucking the sheets into the side of the mattress, they yanked at their adjacent corners, undoing the others work. Stop it, she commanded lightheartedly.  
  
he jested innocently as Qui-Gon stepped in with Ruebyn. Suddenly becoming quite serious, the two efficiently made the bed while Ruebyn continued to apologize for the accommodations.   
  
This will do nicely. Thank you.  
  
The bathroom is right back here, the angel squeezed by the three other persons in the room and turned on the light. There are fresh towels for you both here. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to wake us. One of us is always on watch all night.  
  
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon leaned back over the edges of the bed to let the two ladies pass out of the room. Thank you once again. Your presence is greatly appreciated.  
  
The pleasure is mine.  
  
When the door closed behind them, Ruebyn took a moment to breathe. Clamping onto her heart she sighed. I feel so relieved he's here. I've been so worried.  
  
She wanted to ask why it wasn't good enough just to have Obi-Wan here, but settled for something a little more encouraging. It's alright, Ruebyn, Elia patted the leader on the shoulder. Everyone is doing the best they can.  
  
After they'd gone and the two jedi settled into their bunks and turned out the lights, they took up their conversation from earlier.  
  
So what do you think? Obi-Wan began, eager to know what his master was thinking.  
  
The healers have a difficult job here. I am anxious to hear how the others view their role, and what, if any, impact it will have on negotiations.  
  
Take my word for it- none. The Bondani have little respect for the healers. All in all, their contributions are negligent.  
  
Why do you say that?"  
  
They own nothing. They have no money, and little support. The Simmians as living beings mean nothing to this group of negotiators. Even to Chlak and Kiltma, they are but an ideal.  
  
Interesting that you put it that way. Have you seen their working conditions?  
No, but I have seen their residence before the healers were banned. They look like standard dormitory housing, only underground. It appears they are generally cared for.  
  
If the Simmians are so cared for, then why is tragedy so frequent?  
  
In all honesty, Qui-Gon didn't expect to connect to the healers as much as he had. But there was much he had not seen yet, and he must therefore continue to suspend his judgment until he had heard all sides of the story. At this, their conversation was left open ended, and each drifted off to sleep wrapped up in their thoughts. Tomorrow promised to be enlightening.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
Elia hurried through the fresher and dressed quickly. It was like her to be running late, and while Obi-Wan had swallowed his annoyance the last couple weeks, she did not wish Qui-Gon to have to wait.  
  
Nonetheless, she met them waiting in the common area for her. Hopping in the shuttle, they made their way to the Governor's Palace.  
  
Once inside, Obi-Wan checked Qui-Gon into their room, while Elia went on up.   
  
Refreshed, she bounced into the conference room eager to test the new energy that was bound to come with the Jedi Master's presence. Surprisingly, no one was there yet, and after double checking the time, she opened the window coverings and looked down on the world below. The conference room was only a mere half way up the tower and yet the people down below still appeared as mere ants. She wondered if that was how M'ztka viewed the world: distant, hierarchal.  
  
As if directly out of her thoughts, the governor stepped in.   
  
Good morning. Deliberately making the effort made her feel better, but the act soon backfired when the courtesy wasn't returned.  
  
Where is the new Jedi facilitator? Walking up beside her and looking down onto the scene below, she noticed he was careful to keep his robes from touching her, but the black feathers that sprouted in a fan-like fashion from the neckline nearly brushed her face.  
  
Why do you assume I know?  
  
You seem to have become quite close with the other one, I just assumed you'd do the same with this one.  
  
Folding her arms across her chest, Healer Amelia turned to face him bodily. And what exactly might you mean by that?  
  
Slavery will never be exterminated from this planet no matter how many Jedi they send out. At this, he flung back the folds of his garb and challenged her head on.  
  
Unfettered, she swaggered her hips a little, and leaned back. And here I thought we were beginning to be friends since you didn't throw me in jail.   
  
Don't delude yourself. The only reason you and your kind are not dead yet is because the Republic is protecting you.  
  
Breaking up the aggression, a synthicated voice hummed over the intercom. Governor, the Jedi are on their way up now.  
  
Amelia cocked her head and squinted her eyes not missing a step. What, do you always have us followed?  
  
Ignoring the comment, he slipped back into the adjoining blue toned office while she backed from the window and rounded the table to her usual seat.  
  
Alright, alright. I'm coming old man, she overheard Trafalgar grumble from the innards of the office but skipped any comment she might liked to have made.  
  
Seconds later Kiltma and Chlak burst in, heaving from the stress of running in but moments late. Throwing his suitcase on the table, Kiltma cleared his throat and immediately poured himself a glass of water after the difficult exertion of power walking the 10 meters from the lift. Chlak efficiently booted his powerbook then contacted the team's now official entourage of 20 or more assistants who met in a lower level, spouting off thickly accented directions for today's business.   
  
Into this dysfunctional family was Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn invited to break bread. His arrival, though very expected, seemed as a shock to everyone, for all stopped what they were doing and simply stared as Obi-Wan lead him in. Their expectation must have been that he was some kind of Messiah come to save the people from all their problems, but the short stance of reverence was soon interrupted with the intrusion of the dark clad raven. Good morning, sir. I am Governor M'ztka. Welcome the chaos.  
  
After making introductions they took their places, and Obi-Wan opened. Before we move on, I think we need to clarify a few things.  
  
I agree, Elia spoke up, leaning forward onto the table and narrowing her eyes at M'ztka. Let's start with why a healer was shot.   
  
Qui-Gon noticed that the young healer drilled the governor as if she expected him to reveal the answers, but even if he did know, he wouldn't tell her.   
  
Drumming his fingers against the table, M'ztka met her gaze squarely. Don't blame me for your idiocy. I didn't kill those workers out in the Nimitz.  
  
This has nothing to do with that! she sliced her hand through the air with finality.  
  
Leaning back into his chair, M'ztka feigned calmness by coolly flipping his wrist back. The people are angry at you and are making a statement about it.  
  
Elia fumed, her shoulders hunched over the table defiantly and inhaled to snap back a testy rebuttal, but Obi-Wan eased in.  
  
For the record, we know you made a statement to the press that denied any affiliation with the detainment or attack on Healer Thaum at the Lepkaum Residence. In a short pause, Obi-Wan passed on a soft look to the healer before continuing. We also know that you encouraged the public to let the law address whatever infractions were made-  
  
For their own safety, he added patently. It was obvious on the holo how the Jedi deal with conflict. I feared for their well being. His eyebrows raised innocently as if he were somehow victimized by the whole situation.  
  
Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan brushed aside the rudeness and began again. The riot was in protest to the presence of the Healers on Bonadan. Do we agree?  
  
He affirmed.  
  
Do we also agree that it should not further affect the purpose of these negotiations?  
  
The group scanned the room waiting to see how others would respond, when they were all nodding their heads. Even the healer, though skeptical, gave into the consensus flabbergasted that the Jedi would take that route.  
  
Very well. We should not need to address it again, Obi-Wan stated flatly.   
In the space that followed, the crew seemed speechless and wondered to what exactly they had agreed until Kiltma spoke up.  
  
Prefacing his statement with the fact that his proposal was initiated by Chancellor Vallorum himself, Kiltma eagerly presented an alternative solution to Bonadan's dilemma.   
  
Qui-Gon stole a side glance at his padawan, revealing he was interested to hear how the newest proposal would be received.  
  
We would like to offer Bonadan a skilled pool of workers fully funded by the Republic.  
  
M'ztka rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around his chest, but sucked in his comments.  
  
Seemingly impressed that the group was so quietly captivated, he paused for dramatic effect as if they were to savor every word. We have also been instructed to offer ten Senatorial seats... he repeated the number several times and flashed out all ten of his fingers before going on. ...For the Corporate Sector to afford organizations, such as Tlaska, more influence in the active body of the Senate.   
  
Expecting more, M'ztka just sat openmouthed, disgusted by the broad grin that tore across Kiltma's face.   
  
Tlaska's spokesman, usually the introvert, outright guffawed at the unbelievable idea when he saw the man was actually serious.  
  
Slowly the smile disappeared as he looked from face to face.   
  
Unwilling to let the idea sink so soon, Chlak jumped in for support. The OASR also recognizes your stakes and feels your interests have thus far been under represented.  
  
Eyeing them suspiciously, M'ztka finally begged to know what the catch was.  
  
The work force will be comprised of minor felons, but mind you, it's free labor. The words hung in the air; Qui-Gon was thankful that he did not have to initiate the proposal, for he too, saw the ridiculousness even before the governor's face settled the matter.  
  
I suppose the Core Worlds would like to shuffle off their heathen to outer systems such as ours.  
  
It would be quite profitable to you- Chlak didn't want to give up.  
  
-yes, at the expense of our integrity!  
  
Healer Elia could not hold back a snicker at the irony of this statement, but no matter how much she wanted to, she didn't see much of solution in this option either.  
  
Although the Jedi had been briefed about the proposal before he left Alderaan, he knew it wouldn't go over well, but he wasn't going to let the governor toss every idea out the window. Qui-Gon spoke for the first time, with all the sobriety they expected. You do understand that eventually you will have to give up your slave labor?  
  
We'll secede before we do that, M'ztka snapped back carelessly.  
  
Your investors will not allow you to do that either, Qui-Gon leaned forward gently. Because they know they will lose all their business, the Jedi's eyes dwindled on Trafalgar, who diverted his gaze elsewhere.   
  
The Republic is powerless, he bantered in return. The worst that can happen is they will slap another tax on our exports, M'ztka sang the words confidently, sure of his position, but Obi-Wan wouldn't allow him the satisfaction.  
  
You must consider the consequences, Governor. What will you do if the bill passes?  
  
What you don't seem to understand is that the Republic doesn't have an army, and therefore cannot back up their high and mighty ideals! Ruffled again, the planetary leader shook with anger.  
  
That's a strong assumption, Qui-Gon attempted to pacify both parties at once, but things were quickly getting out of hand, and even the more cooperative of the bunch found themselves frustrated with the recent turn of events.  
  
The Chancellor is offering you an incredible deal, Kiltma tried to persuade M'ztka to take the bait, but as expected, he wouldn't hear anymore of it.  
  
What a puppet you must think I am to accept such ridiculous terms. Listen to how idiotic it sounds. You want us to people the planet with criminals....  
  
They would be contained within a controlled environment. Think of how many investors would encourage you to accept this proposal.  
  
You think investors will be pleased if I had to tell them, By the way, we'll be freeing all your skilled workers and replace the with the scum of the galaxy.  
  
That's how they treat the Simmians as is, Elia mumbled under her breath.  
  
Yes, why don't you whine like a baby as to how poorly the Simmians are treated. Dear god, they are cared for better than other class on this planet.   
  
You make it sound like they are such victims. If they had the choice, they'd never give up their positions where their entire life is cared for. Food, medical, housing, work. What more could they want?  
  
Qui-Gon broke in again as the topic shifted to the underlying issue. I think we need to refocus on the real issue here.  
  
This is the real issue, Jedi, Trafalgar interjected brutally. You can't save them, Healer. You may as well give them up.  
  
Highly spoken from a slave owner. Do you feel threatened, Trafalgar? After all, what would happen if all that money you blow off was actually spent on something more imperative than yourself?  
  
Shut up, whore. Perhaps if you weren't too busy blowing everyone in here, you could might actually accomplish something.  
  
Standing up, Qui-Gon commanded the attention of all. I think we had better take a break. Let's take some time to cool off, then reconvene later. Fuming faces flared with fury. Trafalgar flicked his pocket book closed and threw his shoulders back into the chair, tossing his long hair back in a quick nod. Folding his arms across his chest, he pouted like a six year old, chin close to his chest.  
  
Kiltma and Chlak were nearly speechless after the last outburst and quickly stood and exited, abandoning their materials in a staggered, clumped pile. Heads down, they nodded in the negative at their disappointment. No one expected things to go this poorly.  
  
M'ztka sat proudly from the head seat, snickering in satisfaction. See what happens when you exceed your bounds?  
  
Healer Elia was shuffling her way out behind Kiltma and Chlak when this comment reached her ears. Spinning around, she threw out a concentrated blast of air which hit them like a strong wind. Trafalgar's hair flew upward and M'ztka's feathers flailed.   
  
At once taken back, the two caught their breath as if it had been stolen right out of their lungs. Seconds later the taunting began again. Don't try to frighten us with your sorceress ways, witch! We'll bury you before you know it.  
  
Healer Amelia, The deep throated gruff voice of the older Jedi reprimanded her without raising his voice. The intense whisper urged her out the door, without further response to the jeers.   
  
Her face feverish with fury, she cooled it with her clammy palms. Steaming, she paced as Qui-Gon spoke softly to Kiltma and Chlak in a reassuring voice. As the two departed down the hall, Qui-Gon returned to Elia and Obi-Wan. You will not misuse the Force like that again.   
  
She wanted to cry. His disappointment weighed heavily on her. Fidgeting with her hands, she scrubbed her face again. She wanted to apologize, but she knew if she was to say anything, it would end in tears. Escaping into the nearest fresher facility, she abandoned them and paced the interior, fighting back those first few drops. The back of her throat burned hot, but with clenched fists she managed to pull herself together.   
  
Obi-Wan knew her position well, and prayed she'd hold it together. He could almost feel the disappointment in herself, having been flayed similarly by Qui-Gon on many an occasion. His master had this unusual way of saying very little and a great deal at the same time. Refusing eye contact, the two dangled miserably by the door until she exited. Still red faced, she asked to be taken home, but Qui-Gon suggested otherwise. Why don't you take some time to unwind first. If you still feel like you need to return to the clinic, Obi-Wan will take you.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
Curel, Inc.  
++++++++++  
  
  
I'm busy tonight, Relvaire, Fianat began, reclining behind her desk tapping her teeth with a pen as he appeared on the screen before her. Relvaire often called with little morsels of corporate gossip, and today she didn't quite have the patience to waste her time on his melodrama.   
  
He snickered that she would so quickly assume he was asking her out, but brushed it off. I called that irresponsible brother of yours to see how negotiations are coming along since the riot. Apparently the OASR has made another proposal- of which he didn't feel it was necessary to inform anyone else in the CSA. Foreseeing him quickly slipping off into a tangent, Fianat urged him back to the point of the transmission. Recognizing the hard look that bent across her smooth face, Relvaire jumped to the point with a tinge of fervor.  
  
The Senate is offering the Corporate Sector 10 Senatorial seats if we agree to transits a certain percentage of our labor to convicts.  
  
Dropping the pen, she sat forward and pressed her hands flat onto the pristine desk in front of her. she left the next few seconds undisturbed, hoping he would see the light on his own. Who do you know in the Corporate Sector would actually invite criminals to work for them?  
  
I would for a Senatorial seat. Here's the catch. The Senate knows it will take decades for a complete changeover, and can therefore only demand a small percentage be changed, but as long as we meet that percentage, the taxes will be waived.  
  
The business woman's mind still swayed strongly to the right, but her compadre's interest was beginning to make sense. So really, your saying that we wouldn't actually have to give up our slave labor, we could appease the Senate and those OASR idealists a bit at a time.  
  
Exactly. What's even better is that the proposal has come directly from Chancellor Vallorum himself, which makes us appear all the more willing to compromise. It could very easily earn us more brownie points in the Senate if we don't look like the enemy.  
  
Now that the courts have ruled no breach of contract, the vote's been returned to the Senate. M'ztka is a fool to think they will let him secede, and when he fails, who knows what will happen to Bonadan. You and I have large investments on that planet. We need to be on the right side when this situation blows up.  
  
You know, you would make a very good politician, she didn't like how he beamed with satisfaction from the comment, but she had to admit his point was valid. Folding her hands in front of her, she rested her head on them. I'll look into it.  
Talk to your father, you know how ever stubborn he can be about these sorts of things... Relvaire grinned playfully as she closed out the holo.  
  
Pushing back her chair, she walked over the window and looked down below. She liked it up here and would't risk a fall until she was certain there would be a net to catch her.  



	8. Second Coming

The Second Coming 

++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Governor's Palace  
++++++++++  
  
  
The mid-morning run yielded a calming effect, but Elia was still hot with anger over Trafalgar's rudeness towards her. After taking a quick shower, she was on her way back upstairs to the Jedi's quarters when she literally ran into him, his drink dousing the front of her clean shirt.  
  
When she saw who it was, her nostrils flared like a dragon preparing to breathe its deadly fire. Swiping at the dark red liquid that bled into the white of her breast, she nastily called out to a passing serving droid.   
  
So sorry, mistress, Trafalgar laughed it off, doubling over in a tipsy effort to balance the remaining liquid. Squaring off his shoulders, he patted the front of her tunic with the magic handkerchief that flew from his pocket. Brushing his hand away gruffly, she ordered the droid to bring her a towel.   
  
Let me make it up to you, Healer, Trafalgar offered with a shaky bow.   
  
You've done more than your fair share already, she huffed away towards the bar.   
  
I might be able to share some rather interesting information.  
  
You don't know anything I could possibly be interested in, dismissing the offer as a drunken promise.  
  
What about Aklina?  
  
Snatching the towel from the droid, she pretended not to be interested and battered the stained tunic. But she was recollecting her thoughts from Lepkaum and LeTauktch.   
  
Nuzzling his chin into the crook of her neck, he rubbed her arm with his free hand. What is it Tlaska has got hiding out there? Wouldn't you all like to know?  
  
Get off me. Shrugging off the leechy fiend, she stomped away eyeing him surreptitiously, eager should he reveal any more.   
  
But he simply twirled in his tracks and tipped his glass to her, shouting out an inappropriate invitation as she hurried away.  
  
  
She stomped off. What had he meant by teasing her with such information? If LeTauktch had not mentioned the mining facility a couple of weeks ago, she wouldn't have thought anything of it, but now she was struggling to recall what it was exactly that he said. It was his last request of her, and she had not been able to fulfill it, simply having been preoccupied. And of all people, she owed him for his assistance and loyalty the day Thaum was shot. She cringed to think what happened to him, and offered up a prayer for his peace and eternal freedom.   
  
She did not dwell on this for long though, as she was still plagued by the Mandalorian's enigmatic comment. Did she owe it to LeTauktch and the Simmians to research this further? Even if it turned out to be nothing, what harm might come?   
  
Aye, there's the rub. It was very possible that Trafalgar was attempting to pin her in a tight spot, but he had never been particularly aggressive towards the healers. It seemed his hostility had been focused on her- with pressure from M'ztka no doubt. If that were the case, he'd have little reason to assist her. Dabbing at her sticky shirt front, she grunted as pretentious guests frowned upon her now slovenly appearance. Folding her cloak around the sappy shirt front, she wandered the indoor spa, lost in thought.  
  
After debating about for an uncomfortably sticky hour, she finally marched her way to Trafalgar's quarters wondering what kind of foolishness had possessed her. It had to be fabricated, this information, or why else would he be offering it to her? She must be cautious of a set up, she warned herself as the lift opened. Maybe she should have taken advantage of his drunkenness earlier, as he would be most honest while intoxicated.   
  
Unfolding the note in her hand, she double checked the room number which was quickly fading on the complimentary disposable paper. The receptionist had been reluctant to reveal the information, but after explaining her ambassadorial relationship to the governor, the woman let the information slide.  
  
What could she possibly say? Still slightly embarrassed by the emotional outburst this morning, she commanded herself to let go, and pull it together.  
The numbers closed in. 201.329 and 201. 330 and 201.331. Tossing her head back and cinching the stray hairs behind her ears, she cleared her throat and wriggled her shoulders to smooth her robe. The moment of truth. Ringing the bell, a standard serving droid answered the door.   
  
I'm here to see Trafalgar.  
  
Do you have an appointment?  
  
  
  
May I ask who is calling?  
  
Healer Amelia. The door closed and she was stranded in the hallway. Peering left then right, she prayed no familiar would turn down this barren shaft in which she had no place to hide. The seconds afforded her ample time to doubt and dart away, but somehow her feet were weighted in a tar pit.  
  
The silence sharpened her senses and she heard stirring beyond the door, yet she still jumped when the door abruptly schwooped open. Please come in. The master will be with you shortly.  
  
Catching her breath, and summoning her courage, she stepped over the threshold into the demon's lair. If anyone saw them together, her position might be compromised. The healers didn't need anymore scandal, and M'ztka had been suspicious from the get-go.   
  
Uncomfortable in the vast amount of space before her, she lingered close to the door. Although similar in design to the Jedi's suite in the Contemporary Victorian wing, Trafalgar's decor was far more modern. The angular edges and trim lines seemed to suit his curt personality.  
  
So, its true. The young man ambled in from the back rooms robed in a gold trimmed dark paisley. I thought the droid had made a mistake. I shouldn't suspect you're here to make an apology.   
  
Peering out from beneath her billowing hood would have made it difficult for him to see the sneer that curled on her lips. You said something about Aklina.  
  
Hmm. Interesting, he admitted, tapping his chin with a forefinger. Can't imagine why I would say a thing like that.   
  
He seemed to have sobered up a bit, for the worse, she determined as his wit was quick and sharp. Pulling off her hood, she snapped back, Well you better remember, Trafalgar, because if not-  
  
A guttural moan tore from his throat, You'll what? You can't touch me, not without my permission anyway, a light chuckle followed his own remark.  
  
Ignoring the ridiculous comment, she threw out a jab of her own. I can see you are in the middle of business, as usual.  
  
She nodded to his attire of a flimsy silken rust robe, and he smiled broadly . Of course. Almost naked without a drink in his hand, Trafalgar ambled over a hidden bar and poured himself a thick light blue drink. Might you stay?  
  
So you don't know anything about Aklina?  
  
No, but I'd love to hear what you know.  
  
Spinning on her heals, she ordered the door to open. Angry at herself, she slapped a flat hand against the door frame on her way out.   
  
Oh, that Aklina, the words flowed out dripping with sappiness.   
  
Elia froze in the doorway, but did not turn around. What do you want? She knew he was stalling for her to offer him something.   
  
That depends.  
  
On what? She slowly turned her body towards him.  
  
What you're willing to sacrifice.  
  
Money? Dear god, you're one of the richest fools in the system-  
  
Ha, you're right there. What good would money be to me? No, no... He sauntered towards her and took a seat on one the front parlor three couches. I need you to speak out against M'ztka. Start a rebellion.  
  
Start a rebellion?! she burst out, eye brows lifting in the surprised humor. I don't know what you're sources have told you, but we aren't in that business.  
  
That's not what I've heard. Eyes piercing her expectantly, he gulped down the last of his drink.  
  
So, what's up? Is Tlaska transitioning to droid labor? Positioning herself nearer, she unfolded her hood in the process and smiled when he answered.  
  
Aklina has adopted an alternate form of labor. Grinning away, he waited for her to beg for more, but she just stood there, stunned.  
  
Growing impatient, eased out of the recline and back to the mini-bar. Care for something to drink?  
  
Why are you telling me this information?  
  
Picking up a clear bottle, the handsome Mandalorian stole a quick glance up from his pouring. M'ztka is as much in my way as he is yours. Gripping the neck of the bottle, he bounced his head back for a potent swig before clasping the full glass and delicately escorting it back to his seat.   
  
She couldn't believe his reasons could be anything other than selfish, so when he revealed this, a sensation of hope surged through her body. And the CSA will abandon Bonadan because they know the Republic won't let its supporters walk away unscathed, she filled in the blanks.  
  
You might say that. They have their own interests.  
  
And what's that?  
  
To save their asses. To make as much money as possible.  
  
It all made sense. LeTauktch had been right, and he wasn't even here to bask in it. Satisfied in a way she hadn't felt in ages, she pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and breathed slowly. Batting her eyes abruptly, she confirmed authoritatively, I will not start your rebellion.  
  
Jumping out of her skin, a pulsing sound interrupted her thoughts, and the droid announced a caller. Master Trafalgar, it's your father.  
  
He nodded his head and eventually turned away. Come back and visit.  
  
As if having received more than she ever expected and with nothing else to say, she shuffled out in an pleasant stupor. Maybe there was hope yet.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Later that Day...  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Governor's Palace  
++++++++++  
  
  
Decked out in official finery, the Republic representatives, Kiltma and Chlak, greeted Tlaska's spokesman with weighted bows. It seemed curious to the representatives that although Tlaska had called the meeting just hours before, they must not be very interested in their latest proposal, considering only one woman could be spared to hear the details. Though Kiltma was beyond a doubt that whoever she was, she was likely to be far more competent than that ridiculous character, Trafalgar. He did his best to put on airs though and overlook the slight disrespect. Little did they know however, that Fianat had not settled for sending a mere assistant to find out the specifics of this bargain, she alone secretly traveled from Mandalor.   
  
Thank you for joining us.  
  
The small lights dazzled off the chandelier and sparkled daintily as their footsteps echoed with tempered clicks across the marbled floors of the Conference Hall in the Governor's Palace. Crossing the ornate hotel entrance, they entered one of the many official rooms. The secluded nook still seemed too large for the threesome, as more were expected to attend this private meeting.  
  
Deliberately withholding her identity, she curtly announced, I am unable to speak for Tlaska at this time. I've been told to listen and report. That is all. Now what is it you fellows are proposing? She proceed to fall back casually in the large plush chair as if she were in complete command.  
  
Kiltma and Chlak glanced sideways at each other, chagrined by their counterpart's apparent audacity, but went on. As you know, we are prepared to offer you a skilled pool of labor and a number of seats in the law making branch of the Republic.  
  
The transition from slave labor could take years.  
  
You will only be required to incorporate 10% initially, and rotate in another 10% each ten years following.  
  
I'm concerned that we won't be able to reach that goal in such a short amount of time.  
  
They are offering a monetary stipend on top of the tax cut as an incentive.  
  
What's the penalty for an extension? That hasn't been worked out yet, but as you can see, it is worth it to incorporate by the deadline, Kiltma sipped on the complimentary drink, relaxing now that the conversation had turned.   
  
Internally reviewing the list of questions she had made before she came out, she continued to batter them for clarification. You said skilled workers, who would train the labor?  
  
The sponsoring system would be responsible for the training and general care of their criminals. If you agreed now before the situation becomes too heated, the OASR would be willing to finance a tradeover.  
  
As I said before, I am only here to listen.  
  
Feeling responsible to seal the deal, Chlak spat out a clear warning that verged on threatening. Tlaska has high stakes in Bonadan's future. It would serve you well if you made the right connections now.  
  
Kiltma cut him off, softening his tone of voice. What my friend here means to say is that the Chancellor is offering you the opportunity to break away from Bonadan's grip and have independent representation in the Senate.  
  
Cutting them short, she rose from the table and gathered her things.I'll be in touch.   
  
Do you know how to reach us?  
  
When will you let us know?  
  
Their worried cries fell on deaf ears as she turned her backs on them and exited. Although the intimidation unnecessarily irked her, she nonetheless tended to agree with them. Unwilling to let on, she slipped out, preparing her thoughts to address this with her father.   
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Governor's Palace  
++++++++++  
  
  
Elia wandered about the upper levels of the hotel for a while before returning to the Jedi's quarters. Overwhelmed with mixed feelings, she debated on whether or not to say anything about Aklina.   
  
Handing off her robe to the droid, she stepped into the suite as if she owned the place. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both looked up from their piles of reference books on political history.   
  
What happened to you? No effort was made on Obi-Wan's part to withhold the grin that covered his face upon seeing a huge purple stain blotted all over the healer's pristine white tunic.   
  
She growled in annoyance, holding out the shirt. I had a little run in with Trafalgar.  
  
You what?! Obi-Wan threw his e-book aside while Qui-Gon sat there calmly.   
The idiot was raving drunk, she flew up her hand dismissally weaving back to the fresher where she immediately turned on the water and tore off the tunic.  
  
Obi-Wan leaned over the back of the couch. What happened? Where did you see him?!   
  
The bathroom door closed.  
  
Where did you see him? he shouted above the faucet. The excitement rejuvenated him as he was beginning to feel rather hopeless. I hope you kicked his ass.   
  
Qui-Gon finally jumped in. His eyes widened. He hadn't said that aloud, had he?  
  
I had just gotten cleaned up and I was on my way back upstairs, and he plowed into me.  
  
Obi-Wan hooked a dangling arm over the back of the couch.   
  
No, I don't think so. Well, this is just ridiculous, she interrupted covered in water. Send out the droid to fetch me another tunic, please, she shouted, scrubbing the irrecoverable item with whatever chemicals were hidden beneath the sink.   
  
Obi-Wan chuckled at the raucous she was making in there, delighted to see her pay her dues to humility, and got up off the couch.   
  
After ordering her another shirt, he gathered up the laundry from his room and piled it into the droid's arms. We do have laundry bags, master, the droid suggested overburdened by the grimy mess.   
  
Hurry up, I don't want to be stuck in here all day, she yelled out the door, throwing the sopping tunic on top of Obi-Wan's already brimming pile.   
  
  
Qui-Gon was beside himself observing both their transformed personalities. His padawan was anxious to get out of here when he should have been more concerned about whatever took place between the healer and the CSA rep, Trafalgar. Making a mental note to ask her about it later, he changed the subject as the droid comically exited. I don't think we'll be meeting again today. Perhaps you can show us the Simmian residence.  
  
Are you talking to me?  
  
Qui-Gon sighed, but Obi-Wan answered for her. The healers have been banned from most slave residences now.  
  
I thought they were required to be present? The water to the bathtub turned on and the shouting blessedly ceased.  
  
They are, but not on site.  
  
Interesting. I haven't heard much about the attacker from you, and you didn't mention it this morning. Are the authorities investigating the matter?  
  
He nodded, making his way to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. Supposedly. I mentioned it when I took Thaum in for questioning, but I have a strong feeling their efforts will be detracted elsewhere.  
  
You're probably right. What have you found?  
  
No fingerprints or carbonbased samples were left behind. The only evidence of her presence was the barbed arrow, which I've stored away.  
  
Did you look up the manufacturer?  
  
He nodded, setting the glass down on the kitchen counter. Yes, but no particular affiliations with any militant groups.  
  
Qui-Gon affirmed, expecting that to be so. Who do you think she was?  
Someone hired to incite a riot among the people.  
  
That's all?  
  
I have no evidence that suggests otherwise.  
  
Do you think her presence is related to Thaum's accident?  
  
He shrugged his shoulders, not having considered that route. Responding to the door bell, Obi-Wan retrieved the new tunic.  
  
Knocking on the fresher door, the water turned off and he heard her fumbling out of the shower. Finally she stuck her hand out the door. I hope you don't mind, but all they had were black tunics, he lied.  
  
She began to rage, Send it back! when she snatched it out of his hands and shut the door in his face. Oh yes, very funny.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
Commuter Transport from Bonadan to Mandalor  
++++++++++  
  
  
Fianat watched air traffic fly by from the window of her private cell when her computer beeped announcing a call. Although she appeared busy with all the technical equipment scattered about, she was engrossed with Relvaire's earlier comments and their newest option. Converting her screen for communication, Wek, her bioengineering prodigy at the Curel Labs, materialized on the lap sized monitor. Fianat, Greetings.  
  
Please tell me you did it... she whispered sealing herself in the spacious unit on the luxury commuter line.  
  
Unfortunately, although the Filipian is a humanoid, the gene is just not compatible with the humans we bred.  
  
Have you tried experimental therapy?  
  
We are doing so now, but we have a limited amount of cells to work with.  
  
The sample's too small?  
  
The whole specimen would have been better.  
  
I'm sorry, she rolled her eyes at this new dilemma. I knew I should have contracted for the whole body.   
  
We need the other sample to proceed, he suggested delicately.  
  
I'll get it. Just do what you can with the other until its delivered.  
  
He knew the stress that fractured along her even face, and worried. Will you be alright until we find a match? I mean, you haven't already told the buyer that we have the gene?  
  
She looked at him a long moment recalling the years of research and trust that bound them. No, we should be fine.  
  
Exhaling in a relieved huff, Wek nodded patting two sets of hands to his long chest. Very well. Send it as soon as possible.  
  
Good luck, Fianat smiled, but the sentiment faded quickly as she contacted the bounty hunter.  
  
Nervously drumming her fingers on the keyboard, Fianat debated whether or not to open up this opportunity to others, but was interrupted with the bounty hunter's message center. I've decided to up the price for the catch, but I need the whole specimen this time. Deliver it before tomorrow, and I'll give you D50,000.   
She kept the voice recording short, and hoped it would be enough incentive to get the job done right this time.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Hours Later...  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Vending Station  
++++++++++  
  
  
  
Strangers' bodies bumped against each other at every turn, a mix of sweaty rags and pristine whites. A mass exodus flocked to the Vending Station on the sixth day of the week when the offworlders brought in new shipments of staples and rare exotics. Walkar's docks burst at the seams as Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Elia plowed through the bustle. After the disparaging morning of negotiations, the three had decided to pick up a few things that had been lost to Qui-Gon in transporting his luggage from the shuttle to hotel to clinic. Although earlier he had made some attempt to reach the governor to reconvene, he had received no reply and left his com code with his secretary as a precautionary measure.  
  
I think we can find it up ahead, Healer Amelia shouted over Qui-Gon's shoulder riding his wake lest she be swept away in the torrent. Nudging elbows spun them left and right until eventually they learned to slip through sideways, locking hands to form a serpentine figure weaving its way through the sea of creatures. Obi-Wan would have rather not walked hand in hand like children, but when he inconspicuously tried to shake off the girl's hand, she unfailingly sought it out again after an instant of fright. Catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan's displeased frown amused Qui-Gon, for he suspected he liked the girl more than he wanted to admit.  
  
As they rose a ramp of a stationed craft, Elia viewed the expanse of acres and acres of similar crafts, some that would never see space again, strewn about an airfield like a humungous flea market, which in essence, it was.  
  
Elia had been to the Vending Station a number of times since her arrival on Bonadan, but it always seemed overwhelming; one could not visit even a tenth of it in one day and it was ever changing with new goods and new buyers. This present ship did not appear familiar to her and when she saw the strange looking creatures selling in it, she knew for certain, she'd never been at this end.  
  
Then she smelled it- moist, dark earth. Peeling away from her companion's sweaty palms, Elia followed her nose to the glass aquarium and dug in. This earth, she mused, how much like home. Squishing it beneath her fingers, it writhed with earthworms dangling limply from her palm. Making his way to the front of the crowd which had lessened since they stepped inside, Qui-Gon noticed Obi-Wan cringe when she tasted the soil for salt content muttering a word of repulsion. Pushing passed him, she crossed over to another aquarium filled with a soil lighter in color but far more pungent. Pointing to a label written in an unintelligible font, she argued gruffly with the huge creature behind the counter in a tone that that received a surprised look from both Jedi. Seconds later, the sienna trunk of the creature picked up a huge sack of earth and plopped it before her. As she paid the vendor, Qui-Gon made way for Obi-Wan to heft the sack, which he could have done just as easily himself had the poor padawan not seemed so disgusted by the wriggling contents of the bag.  
  
Perhaps it is best you didn't join the Agri-Core, his master mused observing Obi-Wan crinkle his nose.  
  
Wondering how he'd gotten himself into carrying this infested sack, he made a mental note not to perform any kind gestures in the future. He was also gaining a supreme distaste for the Vending Station and all the annoying creatures in it.   
  
Thank you for getting that. Maybe we can get Thaum's flower bed to grow yet, Elia interrupted his internal complaining, brushing her hand down his biceps thoughtfully.   
  
I'm sure he'll be eternally grateful, he groveled, though he wasn't really upset.  
  
Exiting the ramp, she took Qui-Gon's hand to lead them to the next stall. Such they went down the list of necessities Qui-Gon had assembled back at the Governor's Palace.   
  
As the time was nearing departure they stopped in the hazy shade of an outdoor vendor's booth while Qui-Gon momentarily wandered off in search of backpacks to organize the accumulating materials. Emptying their arms, the goods dropped into a pile between them and they stretched their backs wearily. I'm going to run and get more seeds. Obi-Wan could see the booth in plain view, not more than 15 meters from where he stood and nodded, carefully watching her skirt the traffic.  
  
Kicking the materials in a more compact pile against the edge of the booth, Obi-Wan swatted away buzzing pests that lingered by the soil.   
  
Where's Elia? Qui-Gon returned with three shoulder sacks, acknowledging the nod in the direction of the seed booth. The quick glance forced him to double take the scene. Hovering a couple paces from the Healer stood a wiry Simmian who in profile resembled someone very familiar. Le LeTauktch! The creature looked up and quickly escaped into the crowd.   
  
Elia! LeTauktch! he shouted again, but she didn't hear him. Shooting off after the Simmian, he abandoned Qui-Gon with the goods. He was sure it was the Simmian slave he'd met at the guardbooth, but Elia had told him he was executed for betrayal. Something was off.  
  
  
*  
  
Elia sensed something the second she turned. Spinning around, she searched the multitude of faces milling around the vendor when a strong clawed hand grabbed her from behind and pulled her between the narrow slots of two boothes. Reaching for her vibroblade, the healer attempted to arm herself, but the attacker efficiently acquired the blade in one swift motion. Dosing her with a pungently drugged cloth, the unseen creature clamped something onto the back of her neck.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Qui-Gon watched his padawan sprint across the street, but something held him back from dashing off after him. Scanning over the sea of creatures that swept across the Vending Station, the Jedi searched for the healer whom he had seen just moments before standing next to the Simmian. Fearing the worst, Qui-Gon abandoned the dry goods and darted through the mass of creatures to the seed vendor.  
  
  
*  
  
Obi-Wan mercilessly pushed through beasts twice his size earning irritated roars and barks. Although he couldn't quite spot him, the Jedi followed his senses scanning over the crowd. Interrupted by another sensation, he looked back over his shoulder for Qui-Gon. When he didn't see him, he gave up on the flighty Simmian and returned to where he last saw him.   
  
  
*  
  
Lurching this way and that with flailing arms, she fought to face her attacker, but the creature's immensity wrapped around her like a straight jacket preventing any means of self defense. The creature far overpowered her, reaching its coarse armored limb around the front of her waist and pinning her arms to her sides. The other hand kept such a firm hold on her face, she was seldom able to gasp. Elia squirmed for her freedom, and tried not to breathe through the corrosive cloth, but in her panic found she could not allow herself to suffocate. Scratching violently at the palm that engulfed her entire frame, she struggled to maintain clarity. Kicking to the last, her legs would just no longer comply with her will, and she hung limply from the Humanoid's muscular arms.  
  
  
Picking her up by the back of the neck as if she were merely a rag doll, the muscular woman smashed the healer's face against the makeshift wall, releasing her body. Ripping the item from her neck, she threw her head down towards the ground.   
Unseen, Qui-Gon slipped in the small space behind her, his lightsaber igniting with a humm. Whipping around, she fired her crossbow. When Qui-Gon moved to deflect it, his saber split through the flimsy plyboard wall and the tent-like fabric of the awning fell in on top of them as she escaped out the back into the crowd.   
  
  
  
Allowing her to flee, the Jedi crouched down by Elia's unmoving body. Surveying injuries, Qui-Gon quickly checked for blood. Relieved to find none, he rested her head on his knees, and pulled out a compact med kit from his utility belt. Obi-Wan dashed in from the crowd slightly winded. What happened?   
  
Pulling some smelling salts from his utility belt, he broke them under Elia's nose. Violent coughing ensued, followed by dry heaves. Rising onto her knees, she spat out the dirt and a drizzle of blood, holding onto the wall for balance as Qui-Gon gave her space. Unable to stand upright, she held onto the rickety wall bent over with coughing.   
  
Meanwhile, irritable threats carried over the booth. The vendor shook her fist at the motley bunch of bystanders as the makeshift ceiling slowly slipped down over her goods.   
  
We'd better get out of here lest they call out the police. We don't need anymore trouble, Obi-Wan gestured towards the woman in the vending booth next door.   
  
Too lucid to understand what was occurring, Qui-Gon hefted Elia up on his shoulder and they slipped away.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
++++++++++  
  
  
Fianat exclaimed from her office. We've got it. Not the whole thing, but a specimen. I'm sending it now, the woman smiled over the secure link to Wek. She'd run downfloors later to check on their progress, but she had complete faith in Wek's abilities. As soon as you isolate it, I want it sent directly to Byss to be introduced to the clone army. This healing feature will make them invincible, she smiled to herself.  
  
Interrupting her reverie, Wek continued. You know your father has already sold the army.  
  
What?!!? He hasn't been down there in years, she screamed anxiously. When could he have possibly done that?   
  
He was here just a few weeks ago and asked me not to tell you.  
  
That senile old bastard... her mind raged through the hypothetical options. Who was it sold to? she demanded to know.  
  
A name wasn't mentioned, but I believe he's Sith lord.  
  
He was going to let me introduce the gene without paying for it!   
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar   
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
Qui-Gon leaned against the back of the couch. I wonder if you might examine her neck as well. He was eager to know the Healer's initial reaction to the strange markings.  
  
How did it happen again? Meerpa lifted back Elia's smock; it had obviously been punctured and was slightly stained the collar. Minor bruising speckled the tissue around an oddly shaped bite but Elia healed quickly, so it was difficult to inspect. I told you she covered my mouth and nose with a cloth soaked in Chemithal, and I felt a pinching right here. Elia rubbed the top of her left shoulder and Meerpa flicked it away.  
  
Thaum, check this.  
  
Swiveling from his tech consul chair, the Healer prodded the area. It looks like a blood centrefuge sample.  
  
A centrefuge? Qui-Gon interrupted.  
  
Yeah, it extracts and separates the blood into its varying elements.   
Kiana suddenly jumped up from her seat and yelled behind her. Yeah, Elia just brought back a whole bunch from Curel the other day. Stampeding back in from the residence, a hexagon shaped white disk about 4 long in diameter and 1 deep flew into Qui-Gon's palm.  
  
Flipping it over revealed 6 tiny holes the same shape as Elia's wound. Break it open. Meerpa leaned on the back of the couch over Qui-Gon's shoulder and showed him how to open the disk by sliding back a simple latch. Inside revealed different compartments from which a needle extended from each.   
  
I guess that's what it felt like, though I didn't see it. It wouldn't have hurt so much if he didn't rip it out of my flesh, Elia half moaned.  
  
Did you find anything? Obi-Wan wanted to know when he walked in with Tetre. Qui-Gon overlooked as Obi-Wan examined the area behind Elia's smock, then showed him the disk. Nodding in understanding, he played with the disk and Qui-Gon continued with more questions.  
  
There's nothing else to see, believe me. It's nothing, Elia batted away at Kiana's hands as she poked around her neck.   
  
So this is used here at the clinic?  
  
Yes. We use it to take blood samples, then plug the read out into the computer to check for cell counts as well as infection.   
  
But this doesn't explain why anyone outside the medical profession would need or use such an item. Qui-Gon pondered aloud, rubbing down his neatly trimmed beard.  
  
Stepping around the couch,Obi-Wan pulled two items from beneath the folds of his robe. Not to mention these. I swiped this at the Vending Station, and this is the one that I extracted from the door. The younger Jedi pulled out two barbed crossbow arrows, passing them onto Qui-Gon.  
  
Twirling the two between his fingers, he observed aloud, Well, its obviously the same person, but how can this help us find out who she is-  
  
Or what her motive was for the attack. I think we can surmise it wasn't simply a random rioter, Obi-Wan finished his Master's thought.  
  
Tetre turned from his counsel again. She's probably a contracted independent. Elia... Digging around in the drawer beneath his computer, he pulled out a clear rectangular slide. Your fingernails.  
  
The others instantly caught on, Good idea, hopefully she's on file.  
  
Meerpa ran to the kitchen for a knife. Scraping her index nail clean, Thaum tried to catch it on the tiny slide. Got anymore of that?  
  
Tetre, more slides... Passing on the sample, Tetre dabbed it with a saline solution and covered it. Thaum took samples from each nail as Tetre set up for a match.   
  
Even if we do find out who it is, that doesn't explain their involvement, Kiana confirmed, snuggling closer to Elia until she put her arm over her.  
  
Got something, all heads turned toward Tetre. No, no, it's just Obi-Wan. His image slowly defined itself on the screen.  
  
The group emitted a universal sigh of disappointed while Obi-Wan heavily blushed.   
  
Chuckling at Obi-Wan's embarrassment, Meerpa couldn't resist tossing in that inappropriate comment that hung in the air, And we don't want to know how that got there.  
  
Elia, you've got alot of dirt under your nails. You might want to consider washing every now and again.  
  
If she had washed before now, there might not have been a viable sample, Qui-Gon added soberly.  
  
Okay, okay, this is it, Tetre announced while the image loaded. Ganging around the counsel, Meerpa and Kiana jittered uncomfortably on their knees while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan waited patiently at the couch.   
  
Are you alright? the older Jedi inquired of Healer Elia who slumped back against the couch. Rolling her head to the side to address him, she admitted a nauseating headache. It will take a while my body to entirely expel the toxin.  
  
Obi-Wan moved closer for a better view of the screen. He hunched forward resting his elbows on his knees, squinting. But they said Chemithal is not a substance used to kill, but to immobilize...  
  
Knocking her head back in the other direction, she affirmed. It's used to render patients unconscious before something like a surgery.  
  
Brushing a hand over her forehead, Qui-Gon confirmed that the substance wasn't laced with something more potent.  
  
Anisse Nobel is a half Bondani/Mandalorian Bounty Hunter who resides on Bonadan.  
  
When the image reached high resolution, Obi-Wan moved closer to the consul and knelt beside Kiana. Yes, that's her. She didn't bother to disguise herself.  
  
We must remember though, she was not captured on the holo. We will have a very difficult time connecting her to the healers.  
  
Not with the DNA sample, Kiana concluded logically.  
  
But this doesn't explain why anyone would want Elia's blood in particular. From what you've said, the bounty hunter seemed to have plenty of time to kill her if she wanted.  
  
That's true, Qui-Gon recalled the details of the event. What is particular to Elia that the rest of you don't necessarily have?  
  
Ruebyn sat up taller. She is self healing- as is Thaum.  
  
Elia glanced up at Thaum who froze in his consul chair.  
  
So are we, Kiana affirmed defensively.  
  
Yes, but you were taught how to use the Force to heal with the laying on hands. Their cells can spontaneously regenerate. Ruebyn crushed her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking.   
  
Thaum swiveled in his chair and stared at Elia across the way.  
  
Why would anybody want their blood?   
  
No one answered, seemingly entranced with the pale pattern of the corded carpet.  
  
  
So far as we know, only Healer Amelia's blood has been extracted, Obi-Wan thought aloud. Perhaps the guards were telling the truth when they claimed they did not attack Thaum.  
  
Healer Thaum, Qui-Gon addressed the young Filipian respectfully. Can you think of any moment in which your blood may have been drawn during the time of the attack?  
  
He shook his head. No, but in all honesty, I don't remember much. I was very close to the brink as one might say.  
  
Let's check him for scars, Meerpa was already up examining the region around the back of his neck.  
  
Nothing I can see here, but they might not show up at all.  
  
One step ahead of the game, Qui-Gon continued to drill them with technical questions. Can the blood samples be replicated for an unlimited supply?   
  
Thaum scrubbed his face with his hands. No, they can't simply manufacture anybody's blood. Organic tissue cannot be synthesized except through compatible organic cells, but a blood sample that size, he pointed to the plastic cartridge, contains millions of samples.  
  
So, enough to decode a self-healing gene, Meerpa finished off Thaum's thoughts.   
  
Okay, so our blood will assist in the progression of science...  
  
I know this sounds awkward, but why not kidnap them for an unlimited supply? Kiana frowned and played with Elia's fingers.   
  
Because in all reality, they'll probably clone.  
  
They were perfectly still, except for some shifty eye movement. Obi-Wan side-glanced to his master. They would have to intercept the samples.  
  
This is not the first we've heard of this though, Tetre sighed recalling an incident from a few years ago. There was some question about bio trafficking from hospitals. I wouldn't doubt you could find such right here on Bonadan.  
  
Taking advantage of the silence, Obi-Wan began his own confession. There was something else I hadn't gotten to mention.... Retrieving the images of the morning, Obi-Wan recalled the curious incident of seeing LeTauktch. It was the same Simmian. I'm certain.  
  
The healers looked back and forth at one another. There's no way he could have escaped.  
  
LeTauktch is the one who held me at the door, Thaum added slowly, working through the strange sighting.   
  



	9. Disappearing Act

Disappearing Act 

++++++++++  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
Elia was not expected to attend negotiations the following morning, and they agreed that she should just sleep in and concentrate on healing. Although she agreed, she also planned on being ready early in the morning to meet them. And it was odd of her to be on time for anything. Rising an hour early, so she might delay the alarm with the snooze feature, she hopped in the fresher, and got dressed.   
  
As she was changing, a chill came over her, urging her to listen closely. Residing in the cell closest to the rear exit, she sensed movement, perhaps a rustling of selves or other native beast. Tiptoe-ing in her own room, pressed her ear against the inside of the exterior wall. Extending her hearing with the Force, she wracked her brain trying to categorize the sound.   
  
Suddenly, armed guards burst in her room. Her first inclination was to cover up before scream, and taking advantage of this situation, she was easily confiscated. In her last minutes of consciousness, she saw a bundled Kiana squirming for freedom. Kicking with all her might, she finally succumbed to the drug, and was dragged outside the building.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
Governor's Palace  
++++++++++  
  
  
What the hell is this supposed to mean? Kiltma threw a disk onto the central conference table towards Trafalgar. Unmoved, Tlaska's representative finished his drag on his expensive spiced cigar, then casually inquired of it.   
  
Play it, you son of a bitch. Chlak roared observing Trafalgar dot out his cigar temporarily and reach for the holodisk. Aware of the many eyes staring him down, he prepared himself for what the holo would reveal.  
  
No. Tlaska will not support you... the bluish image of Trafalgar wavered and was soon blocked by Healer Amelia as the holocam made its rounds across the room. Mention this to no one, Trafalgar.  
  
Obi-Wan's picture perfect composure wanted to shout out in defense, but his eyes betrayed him. A nausea settled into his belly at the thought of such a deception. Though he wouldn't have put it past Trafalgar to devise such a plan. Qui-Gon's own surprise was supressed, donning patience while the others around him burst with fits of emotion.  
  
I think you have some explaining to do, M'ztka began with what had been diminished to a controlled rage, having seen the holo just hours before. As we can all see, this only goes to prove-  
  
Yes, so I was approached by the Healer, but the meeting did little good. He remained just as calm and cool as ever, almost as if he expected it. He was not even amazed to learn his quarters were being tapped.  
  
How do we know you didn't set up the meeting? Chlak accused in his tone.  
  
Oh, don't be ridiculous. What could that ineffective little organization of witch doctors ever have to offer me? She came to me-  
  
That's impossible! Obi-Wan interrupted to the chagrin of his master.   
  
Qui-Gon did not admonish him, or move to silence him as the crowd snickered at his naiveté. Burgeoning red, the realization that Elia may not have been entirely honest with him came as a terrifying shock. Qui-Gon knew how unsettling this was to his padawan's vision, and wondered himself if he had not been played the same way.  
  
What's the defense for, Jedi? M'ztka jumped in again after having been cut off. There's no other reason for the Healers to be meeting with Tlaska unless to undermine me. Trafalgar doesn't deny the meeting, do you?  
  
Obi-Wan was speechless, pressing his lips together and exhaling harshly. Intervening, Qui-Gon offered, Before further accusations are made, I should like to view the rest of the holo. From what we have seen thus far, we cannot be certain of what exactly took place. The image and recording are not fully imprinted; their heads are turned away and there's no way to confirm what's being stated.  
  
Chlak turned to Trafalgar, Well, you were there, man. What was said?  
  
I tell you the the Healer approached me en route to my suite and I invited her in. A beautiful women... The pause was met with icy glares by the Jedi in his vulgar attempt at humor. In response, he neatly summed up. They asked for our support in some ridiculous movement for freedom, I assume.  
  
What do you mean, I assume? Qui-Gon pressed for clarification trying to read through his manipulative skill. He now kicked himself for not having pursued the discussion about Elia's run in with Trafalgar the other day. Obviously it was far more serious than the girl let on.   
  
She didn't mention any details.  
  
Obi-Wan's cheeks flamed red with anger and embarrassment at the allegation. Accusations made against the Healers nearly assumed the Jedi's involvement. The critical nature of the situation urged him to keep in tune with the Force, and he fought to set aside the debilitating emotions to focus. Although he wanted to jump in with his opinion of the matter, Obi-Wan withdrew from the conversation to observe, and in this action, determine the truth from these surreptitious politicians.  
  
Feigning fury, Kiltma and Chlak avoided each others glances, fear building should they too be accused of resisting M'ztka's leadership.  
  
By the way, Kiltma. Where ever did you come in contact with the holodisk? The cigar was lit again, as if satisfied he'd journeyed the gauntlet unscathed.  
  
It was sent to me by comlink- anonymously. I copied it, and was unable to track the sender.  
  
That's a likely story. Deliberately shifting the focus of the conversation away from himself, Trafalgar's tone of voice questioned the validity of the Republic's representative.  
  
You don't have to believe me. I've done nothing wrong.  
  
Who issued the stealth cam to follow me then? While Trafalgar tried to make it a personal concern to keep Kiltma on the defensive, he didn't seem to care who issued it, and carried his weight as if one should ever assume an ounce of privacy as stupidity.  
  
Chuckling, Chlak turned to M'ztka. It's perfectly obvious who issued the order. He's been waiting for one of us to slip up and expose our so-called plan to dethrone him. You're paranoid, M'ztka.  
  
The midnight robe of the governor whooshed behind him as he darted in to attack the quick words. Jabbing a knuckly finger, he asserted, Upon agreeing to participate in these pitiful negotiations, each of you signed a contract to be recorded.  
  
During negotiations, not to our suites. Kiltma defended, rising from his chair with flailing arms. A pause ensued, as if digesting this information. Well, if you did it, why didn't you come out and say it?  
  
I didn't send the holo. M'ztka seemed reluctant to offer this information sighing and sitting momentarily. I didn't find out until you forwarded the draft this morning, he admitted. The governor slumped back in his chair, mocking Trafalgar, while Kiltma and Chlak still stood angry, accusatory, and suspicious.   
  
Having calmed his breathing, Kiltma sighed a conclusion. Well in any event, the Healers should be called in to resolve this matter.  
  
Or to see if someone is lying, Chlak hissed, eyes drilling Trafalgar.  
Healer Elia is in custody as we speak.  
  
Obi-Wan released his grip on the arms of the chair, his knuckles white, and made to depart, not waiting for his partner.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's Private Quarters  
++++++++++  
  
  
Well, that explains the poor transmissions; we can be fairly certain that our room is being tapped. Obi-Wan picked up his robe he had just moments ago torn off and made for his room. Stopping in the doorway, he turned back. He was lying, Qui-Gon. I am certain of it.  
  
His master sighed and met him in the hallway. They are serious allegations. Are you certain you do not suspend your belief because you do not want to see otherwise?  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes stayed focused on the muted swirling colors of the carpet. Moments passed and Qui-Gon left him there to reflect leaning in the door frame. He'd felt from the beginning that his padawan's feelings in the matter were somewhat distracted, and he sighed, regretting his choice not to interfere earlier. And while he was not swayed to believe Trafalgar, he couldn't help but to question truth in the accusations.   
  
We don't even know if it was her, Obi-Wan mumbled to himself, still in a state of denial.   
  
Reappearing outside his door once more, Qui-Gon countered, Did you notice the stains?  
  
He was silent.   
  
Alongside the bottom of her robe? It was her, his master confirmed gently.  
  
Seconds later, he heard Obi-Wan announce, I'm going out- and before he had a chance to suggest otherwise, the door whooshed closed.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Indescript Bar  
++++++++++  
  
  
I still don't understand why you had to come all the way out here. You could have just called, Trafalgar haughtily sucked down his drink and lazily flipped his wrist towards the bartender to order another.   
  
I've got some very delicate information I need to share with you.   
  
Don't you want to hear about this morning?  
  
Oh,yes, yes.   
  
Did it work?  
  
Like a charm. M'ztka's more nervous than ever, and is now whole heartedly convinced the healers are plotting a coup.  
  
That's just the place we want him, Leopold's eyes glazed over in contemplation. Beginning again, the anxious twitch returned. Alright, now what I've got to tell you... After glancing left and right, and satisfied that the bar was empty enough to proceed, he pressed out his hands slowly, stressing the importance of his loyalty. I'm not sure where to begin.   
  
Another long pause followed. Leaning towards his father, the boy raised his eyebrows and stuck out his chin. he barked impatiently.   
  
The father patted down his shirt and rubbed his palms over his face before drilling him intensely. This is serious, boy, and I'll have your attention.  
Backing off, the youth hunched over the bar and gave the old man a reluctant look followed by a softer reply. What is it, then?  
  
Remember the investor I told you about?  
  
Which one?   
  
The Sith. He's ready to bargain. Here's the irony. He wants you to take over Bonadan after its fall. The last words chortled out his mouth.  
  
Utterly taken aback, he ran his fingers through his hair and breathed in jagged gulps. With elbow on the bar's edge, turned to face his father straight on, fingering his collar bone delicately. You can't be serious. His interest now sparked, he listened more intently at the impossible prospect. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the drink set beside him, but dismissed it. Who does this guy think he is? The minute M'ztka is removed, the Republic is going to move on in and take over.  
  
I've also got 25,000 troops out on Byss and Eleandor to support a take over. Now, Mandalor will donate half the troops to the new interstellar army. The rest will remain on reserve until called upon.  
  
We can't go to war, father. I'll be the first to say it, M'ztka is an idiot. He doesn't deserve that place anymore than I do. What does Mandalor's government say to this, much less Bonadan's?  
  
Mandalor is still debating whether or not to support Bonadan, based primarily on the suggestions of the CSA- to which you are supposedly representing. And Bonadan. Well, let's say that those who are left on the planet won't be posing much of a threat.  
  
Trafalgar squinted his eyes for clarity and scratched at his sideburns looking terribly confused.   
  
a testy plump finger wavered in the air, I know Tlaska has never meant anything to you. But I'll be damned if you are downfall of this legacy. As much as I've wanted you to follow in my footsteps, I've let you take your own course.  
  
The young man took a deep breath, unable to resist the old man's plea. I'll do it.  
  
The old man sat up taller and tucked his hands across his chest. After a few seconds, the old man grinned and nodded his head.   
  
The two men picked up their drinks, both unsure of the future. To thine own self be true.   
  
The old man laughed and patted his son on his shoulder, while the boy choked out a curse. Fuck. What did I just agree to?  
  
Softening his deep throated laughter, Leopold continued, Listen, this is strictly between you and I. Your sister will be furious when she finds out, so we won't tell her until we must. The Sith said very specifically, he wants you. He rolled his eyes at what a challenge that would be.  
  
But what's the catch? Why not assume power for himself? He doesn't even know me.  
  
He's watched the holonet, Leopold surmised. How else would he know so much about his son? That's not the point.  
  
So whats he want me to do? Force all the investors to give up their slaving rights? Or better yet? Turn over all revenue to him, right?  
  
No, no, no. You would be a figure head, so you could maintain whatever lifestyle you wish.  
  
Trafalgar leaned back on the bar stool moaning with pleasure. Although he vaguely understood that the ground might fall out from under him at any given moment, he generally trusted his father's judgment.   
  
But what about Aklina?  
  
I'll get to that in just a minute. For now, let's savor the moment.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Southeast II  
Tower at Tamalpais  
Maximum Security Prison  
++++++++++  
  
  
Swallowing back the bile of anticipation, the Jedi marched poignantly to the interview room where he could confront the truth. Although certain Trafalgar lied about what actually took place during that meeting, he nonetheless found himself questioning the Healer's role. All were quite aware of their personal commitment to the Simmian's which in turn only supported the growing assumption that they were amassing an underground rebellion. Yet perhaps that which unsettled him most was his feeling of vulnerability. It was unwise to have grown so fond her, for it may now affect the outcome of the negotiations and all that relied on them.  
  
Then, rising out of his past wriggled a piece of advice Yoda had once given him in his youth. Judge not until all sides you have heard. Clearing his thoughts, he let go of this personal feelings and sought to find the truth, whatever that may be.  
  
The scruffy voice and inflated chest of this Mandalorian guard meant to be intimidating, repelling unwelcome and friendly visitors alike. However, upon seeing the Jedi approach from down the long hall, the guard mysteriously deferred hegemony and stepped out of the visitors way. Obi-Wan passed four guards in the like manner until he reached a Reception Desk whose primary duty seemed to ward people away.  
  
Without bothering a glance upward, the guard snorted at the presence of the foreigner from behind the array of viewing panels. Assuming the guest dumbfounded and lost, he began issuing orders to take the lift back down the lower level.  
  
You will take me to the Healer.  
  
No visitor's allowed- but Obi-Wan was already on top of him, using the Force the shock the guard into a catatonic state. Buying his time, Obi-Wan scanned the monitors, locating Elia surrounded by pacing guards in a small conference room.  
  
The panel read 1002A.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
Governor M'ztka and his men put down a rebellion today in the Valdez District of Walkar thought to be incited by the Republic's Jedi Healers. Sympathetic to the Simmian slave race since their establishment here over five centuries ago, the Healer's clinic will remain temporarily closed until the trial. Although they deny any involvement, one member of the organization has been detained for questioning. Estimates of damages are well over $12 million Mandalorian ducats as the Governor placed the Benzoic Mechanism into effect. 1500 new slaves will be shipped in tomorrow. claims Relvaire and Tlaska, the two companies most severely hit, and business should continue as usual...  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
The holo flashed bloated Gammorean guards outfitted in riot gear indiscriminately blasting Simmian out of house and home even as they convulsed, the Benzene poisoning their blood. There were faces she knew, graced with terror in wide eyes and wide mouths and while one couldn't hear the screaming over the impersonal narrative, their voices reverberated through her.  
  
Fight compassion with guilt and tell her she made the wrong decision. The pit of horror bounced with surreal beings suggesting improbable actions. The clean shiny suit pressed stiff onto the body of the Bonadan Interrogator, Captain Viit, left him wobbling on the uneven ground. Imagine what your Healer companions must be thinking of you.  
  
Dizziness flooded her vision such that she detached from her body and viewed herself spinning, physically steady and unmoved by the wailing images. Ethereal arms flailing, the floating unmass of herself backhanded Viit and wrung the fat necks of the tanto guards, then flew out of the plexiglass sheeting and hung in the balance over the hundred and some floor. Looking in at the still life, a tear hung in the balance of the numb body, but she claimed no ownership and gathered the courage to drop.  
  
Obi-Wan burst in and caught his breath at the image of her in the glass, yet at that moment, she was sucked back into her body like a vacuum and he turned to view her seated passively before the disturbing holo.   
  
Crossing the room, the three Mandalorian thugs formed a physical barrier, gripping their pitiful blasters in an obvious threat to use them. Get him out of here. You are breaking the terms of the negotiations, Jedi. Step down! The words fell upon a brick wall, and with a simple nod of Viit's blackened head, the guards fired away.   
  
Expecting the rash reaction, Obi-Wan's weapon was out, deflecting the close range shots back into the guards and the room around him. Two obese bodies absorbed the shots as if into a sack of flour and fell writhing while the last blasted away, aiming for anything in front of him. Through the fire, Obi-Wan charged, his saber his shield, until he was close enough the slice the weapon right out of the guard's unwitting hand. At throat, the Jedi spared his life but with the blunt end of his sword pummeled his adversary with a heavy blow to the head.  
  
...Leaving Captain Viit, hiding behind the circular table with what little dignity he had left for fear. Weapon extinguished, Obi-Wan slipped from his aggressive stance to one of ease and focusing on the weak mind of the Interrogator, commanded him to release the Healer. A blank look washed over Viit's pale complexion, repeating the order and left the room to heed the bidding.  
  
Kiana. He's going to get Kiana.  
  
Shifting focus, Obi-Wan marched to Elia who stared at the newscast still humming in the center of the conference table. The recording played over and over, the Simmians torn down in a vision of Purgatorio.  
  
He was blunt. Did you do what they say you did?  
  
Hypnotized by the muted screaming, it took much will on his part not to violently shake her back in the moment. He called her name, but found no response forthcoming, and therefore reached out with the Force, gently swaying her to give him his attention.   
  
Turning into the soft hands, her rigid composure collapsed like a tidal wave bending in on itself. The blue green salty tousled Fear and Degradation jumbling faces of horror. Body parts exploded opening wounds made jagged by jutting collar bones or soft tissue innards oozing from an unnatural hole. Drowning, her lungs tried to open, but were drenched in the frothing stickiness. Choking through uncontrollable sobs, she felt as if she just might die, the piano crushing her chest down into the depths of guilt.  
  
  
The Living Force centered around her ki like a thick fog dripping dew off her limbs into a puddle of empathy. The back of his throat burned hot and his nostrils flared with a sudden intake of air. Kneeling at her side, Obi-Wan pried her arms and buried head off the table in attempt to focus her. Elia. Look at me. Her energy dispersing into a mental chaos, she tried to swim back to the surface, but he couldn't see her way down in the depths and became frustrated. So, lifting her head, he used the Force to meld with her and in the process shared the horrific images and feelings that scattered throughout her mind. Undaunted, he called to her again and again barely whispering her name, yet when she heard him, far away, she felt she didn't deserve him, and began pleading her case.  
  
Listening closely for an answer, he soon realized she was showing him the event as if he had been there, a voyeur examining each minute detail of the room and its characters- right through her very eyes. He felt the humiliation of that morning when Qui-Gon reprimanded her; he felt the rage when the front of clean tunic was bespattered with sticky wine; he felt her debate whether or not to to seek him out; and then the elation when she learned that what LeTauktch had mentioned about Aklina was true. Aklina was transiting to droid labor behind M'ztka's back, he concluded logically. And Trafalgar probably set this up to distract M'ztka from the truth....   
  
As if purged, her heaving ceased and the sobs transformed to an eerie silence as if death had washed her up on the shore. And when the vision faded, he didn't want to open his eyes lest the pale cast of grief manifest themselves in her face.   
  
  
Assuring him he could let go, she reached to his forearms and gently pressed. As if waking from a dreamy tempest, he nodded his head in understanding, and hands still clasping her face, pulled her to him asking forgiveness for ever having doubted. And she, undone, melted off the chair, thanking him for not abandoning them.  
  
  
Obi-Wan breathed in with surprise.   
  
I knew you'd be here, his deep baritone was calming, drowning the words of the stoic reporters.  
  
An intense stare was shared between the two Jedi until Elia interrupted, They have Kiana.  
  
Stepping out of the room, Qui-Gon did not have to use his Force abilities to get the Gammorean thug to lead him to where Kiana was bring held. Her slight, shimmering form, crumpled in corner concerned him, but upon closer inspection, she was found physically uninjured. Qui-Gon's commanding nature easily persuaded Viit to stay out of the way as he lifted her out of the corner. Her tear stained face snuggled into his shoulder, gripping his heart with anger for M'ztka.   
  
Shaking off the sentiment, he brusquely gave the order to escape and the four of them flew down the hallway.   
  
Like a living shield, a defensive line of three bulky boars crammed in the hall, weapons exposed. Elia immediately sought out Kiana, who hopped out of Qui-Gon's arms and they ducked into an open room. The two Jedi stepped forward, ready to challenge those who stood in their path. Igniting their sabers, they waited until the guards dare strike. Reeking of fear, they fidgeted where the Jedi remained firm and prepared. Finally, when the Jedi did not stand down, the leader ordered his men to charge, blasting away. They were received with much skill, and effortlessly repelled all blaster fire shuffling their way closer to the guards.   
  
As they moved forward, the two girls darted across the hall to the nook of a lift. Punching the button over and over to open the doors, she waited in expectation for the Jedi to cut down the imposing guards.   
  
Unexpectedly, as the lift doors separated, three more guards materialized. And while she maintained no weapon, she tossed Kiana to the side, and kicked at the first victim relinquishing his blaster. Dodging the stray fire of the other two, she bound out of the way, scrambling to her feet just outside the door.   
  
Turning to their aid, Obi-Wan deflected the random fire, then efficiently hacked the guards to pieces. Pulling, nearly dragging the two girls into the lift, he made room for Qui-Gon, before punching in the Ground Floor and heading down.   
Immediately checking on the girls, Qui-Gon confirmed that they were alright. Now let's work on getting you two out of here.  
  
Since they were nearly a hundred floors up, a very long way from the bottom, Qui-Gon wasn't surprised when they were stopped at floor 52.   
  
We'll have to crawl out.  
  
They'll be waiting for us, Kiana screeched nervously.   
  
So we'll climb a couple of floors lower, Obi-Wan asserted, just as the lift began moving downwards again. Wrenching open the doors with the aid of their lightsabers, they spied the ladder nearly a foot out in the spidery darkness, bisected by the floor level openings. Qui-Gon ordered the moment they could squeeze through. The lift will increase in speed after three floors. With Obi-Wan's arm about her waist, Elia reached out her hand, and clasped a rung, throwing herself against the chill ladder as the elevator slipped on down. Finding hold with her feet, she blindly climbed down into the inner workings of skyscraper.   
  
Meanwhile, the lift picked up speed. Obi-Wan was out efficiently, but as Kiana looked out into the spinning black, she shrieked for fear.   
  
Calming any such intrepedation, Qui-Gon took her in his arms and announced they'd jump together. Moving fearfully fast now, his timed himself with the Force and pushed her out in front of him just as the elevator slipped below another floor exit. Finding a strong hold with his right hand, he held up the dangling Elfin as she fumbled for a rung in the darkness.   
  
Qui-Gon called upwards; he was down three or four floors below.  
  
Yes, master, Obi-Wan was looking down when the blaster fire rang out from above. The only light now filling the bottomless shaft flooded in between Elia and Obi-Wan.   
  
Brandishing his lightsaber, Obi-Wan yelled out for Qui-Gon to go ahead and they were swallowed up in the inky black. Elia immediately started climbing up while Obi-Wan, hanging out from his left hand, solidly deflected a barrage of brilliant blaster fire.   
  
They were stuck. I'll meet you on the upper floor, she shouted, inadvertently attracting blaster fire her direction.  
  
he bantered back. She pressed herself flat against the rungs, thankful the guards didn't have a clean shot from that angle.   
  
He fastened a grappling hook on the first rung, and slacked some cord as she screamed back to him. Jump?! What if an elevator comes?  
  
On the count of three! He tested the line and its attachments as two guards began to climb out into the shaft.   
  
She breathed in deeply weighted with thick darkness that pounded her overhead.  
  
  
  
Obi-Wan moved down a few steps as the boar grew closer, and readied his free hand to catch her.  
  
  
  
A knobby hand grabbed her by the ankle just as she let go, flinging her upper body ahead of her feet. The open shaft whizzed by, and she scarce realized when Obi-Wan leaped off the ladder and caught her by the waist as they tumbled down into the pit.   
  
Hang on! was not enough warning as the threaded wire abruptly yanked them to a stop, bouncing them up and ramming them against the sides of the shaft.  
  
At the end of the rope, he blindly reached out for the ladder side with his free hand. Once they were both firmly attached to it, he disconnected the line and climbed below her to open a set of doors. The lightsaber's blue was belittled in the immense darkness, and its echoing humm was swallowed up as he slashed through the nearest double doors. Hanging upside down from his knees, he pried one side open, and finding the hallway empty, flipped down inside. After helping Elia swing in, they bolted down the hall for an alternate route downstairs. Weaving their way to a commuter elevator, they slowed their sprint and joined a group of businessmen to the ground level.  
  
Ingenious, Obi-Wan thought to himself, as they walked inconspicuously towards the exit.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
Pushing their way through the media, Obi-Wan and Elia dashed up the steps and through the front door, anxious to see their compatriots. Kiana shouted, running to her friend.   
  
I'm so sorry I got you into this, the healer admitted, petting the girl's hair and swinging her around.  
  
Qui-Gon hugged his padawan.   
  
You weren't waiting long, were you?   
  
His master replied in the negative. Now that you're back, I think we need to discuss a few matters.  
  
Obi-Wan observed the healers whisk Elia away in a shroud of comforting words and followed his master into Treatment Room B.  
  
  
M'ztka will not allow this matter to go unavenged. I've contacted the Council, and they are sending reinforcements, including Master Li'sarrow, and the Healers have been commanded to evacuate within three days.  
  
I can assume that didn't go over well.  
  
No, but Ruebyn seems to whole heartedly agree, and they should follow her. What did Healer Amelia tell you about the meeting with Trafalgar?  
  
I thought you knew when you arrived.  
  
No. But I wanted to support you no matter what the outcome.  
  
Surprise softened to a frown. But it could have compromised negotiations, he rationalized.  
  
You are more important to me than that. Now tell me what happened.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes in appreciation. I saw everything, Qui-Gon, as if I were there. I was simply touching her shoulders, like this, he displayed. And I could see through her eyes. The wine splashing all over her tunic, what she felt as she waited in the hall outside his room, and then exactly what was said. There was this big deal about Aklina. I didn't understand, though, because they were so vague.  
  
You saw all this just from touching her?  
  
He raised his eyes for an answer, but was met with silence.  
  
Aklina will have to wait, as Kiltma has informed me of a meeting with yet another Tlaska representative for may agree to the Chancellor's proposal. I have a strong feeling she'll be able to tell us more. Let's hit the Vending Station as its local. It seems those centrefuge disks are getting picked up right here, illegally.  
  
Do you think it's alright to leave them here? Obi-Wan interrupted with concern.  
  
We'll wait until Li'sarrow arrives tomorrow morning, then head out.  
  
You're not concerned that M'ztka may send more guards to take them into custody?  
  
I think he would have already tried by now if that was his intention. He's now more worried about the repercussions of his decision to inflict the Benzoic Mechanism on the Simmians. Mon Mothma mentioned they've gained an incredible amount of support over this tragedy, and they are trying to call for a special meeting of the Senate to vote now.  
  
With no response other than a simple nod, Qui-Gon changed the subject. In the meantime, let's get rid of these reporters.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Coruscant  
++++++++++  
  
  
The Republic will not stand for this, Governor, Mon Mothma stammered to herself, shaking with fury as the holocast replayed clips of the atrocity. Although Mon Mothma felt the Valdez massacre was far more than just a whimsical misunderstanding of a Hitleresque madman, she refused to view anymore of the slaughter.  
  
The OASR had been contacted immediately by Chlak, giving the whole scene intergalactic coverage, its bloody bouts igniting abolitionist fury. Gathering in Coruscant to plan their next move, the OASR's stronghold, Cato Antilles, boomed from the head of the conference table. An idiotic move on the governor's part that must be played upon. Sympathies are high; we must draw together our forces. The executive council had convened to discuss the appropriate measures to take, and as no one dared opposed Antille's opinion, the members spouted off systems that could be called upon for support.  
  
Create a petition then, and we'll make the proposal at the earliest possible time. This cannot be allowed to continue.  
  
  
++++++++++  
Coruscant  
Din's Office  
++++++++++  
  
  
What could you have possibly been thinking, you idiot?! Din paced around the holo, his secretary packing his things as they spoke. You shouldn't have done it. You've gone too far this time. The Senate's discussing the new course of action now and planning to amass an interstellar army against you.  
  
You seem somewhat disturbed old friend, the governor frowned feigning innocence.  
  
They are serious this time, fool. Back down while you still can!  
  
Your not planning on leaving town, are you? He stretched his eyes over the Senator's shoulder.  
  
Sweat poured from Din's forehead. I'll call you when I'm safely relocated. But mark me, M'ztka, Bonadan is nothing without Corporate support, and they're more than concerned.  
  
M'ztka ended the transmission before he heard the last words, sinking back into his plush chair. Tapping his chin, his reverie was interrupted by his aid informing of a visitor.  
  
Even before the name could be announced, Trafalgar ambled in.   
  
Not surprised to see who ambled in, or if he was, M'ztka didn't let on. I assume you've come to demand a monetary reimbursement for the little episode today, the Governor smirked from behind his broad desk, not bothering to rise and greet his guest. Their restrained mistrust of one another had now blossomed into an outright hatred of the other since the holo had been revealed.  
  
He'd ordered the Benzoic Mechanism put into effect not just to make an example to the Simmians, but to warn dissenster's- like Trafalgar- to keep in line. Betrayal was not taken lightly. If Bonadan falls, they are going down with him.  
  
No, as a matter of fact. And you had better listen to what I have to say because it may just save your neck.  
  
Shuffling slowly to M'ztka's desk, the Mandalorian deliberately made his nemesis wait in anticipation as he lit his cigar. Then, towering over the seated governor, he began. You will offer the Simmians freedom.  
  
The governor did not buy into Trafalgar's pretentious airs. You tell Leopold-  
  
Just shut up and listen! Unknowingly, M'ztka found himself at the edge of his seat and had to force himself back into his chair. Opening his arms, he haughtily invited his counterpart to continue.  
  
Mandalor has more sway in this operation than you know, Governor. I've been instructed to offer you a certain piece of information of the highest security. Another long pause tortured the now curious diplomat.  
  
Consider this. Replace the slave population with clones.  
  
Chandrila will never give up their research.  
  
What if we already had the knowledge and the resources to produce them? An undisputed slave race genetically fashioned to withstand extreme conditions. A workforce forever in its prime...  
  
If its true, why are you offering it to me? Suspicion dwindled at such a grand opportunity.  
  
Tlaska had intended the switch over for some time and currently had been refining the process in-  
  
M'ztka took pleasure in finishing that sentence, chuckling with glee. Your operation in Aklina, then, was supporting clones, not droids. How could I have been so blind? Tlaska would never support the expenses of droids.   
  
No, but you do understand now, how I could not respond to your inquiries in negotiations.  
  
That is also why you did not oppose the Benzoic Mechanism for your slaves.  
  
Yes, the rumors must have started somewhere and we weren't ready for that kind of attention.  
  
Of course not. The governor was on the edge of his seat again, his fingers tapping together to a steady rhythm. Everybody's happy. The corners of his mouth jutted upwards in satisfaction.  



	10. Lost and Found

Lost and Found 

++++++++++  
Walkar  
Vending Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
Li'sarrow's here. Wake up, Kiana. The petite one had fallen asleep in the common area next to Thaum, who now gently nuzzled her awake. Letting her head fall back onto the couch, Thaum weaved his way around the couches and jogged to the porch. Although overcast, the light burned his eyes but he could see Li'sarrow stepping from a shuttle with the two Jedi's aide. A line of hovertrucks snaked its way behind her on down the road. They were really leaving. A stampede rose up from behind him, Kiana screaming, M'Li'sarrow's here! M'Li'sarrow's here! Breezing passed him, she dashed down the steps of the clinic and flung herself into the older woman's arms. Thin and strong, though much more gray than could be revealed over a holo, the Master Healer kissed the top of the Elfin's head. Thank you for coming, Kiana clung to her waist even as they walked towards the clinic.  
  
the older one turned to face them. Thank you for watching over my gems.  
  
They bowed formally, but Qui-Gon was eager to move on. We need to explore a few things while we're here. Will you be alright with them?  
  
She nodded as they others walked towards her. Yes, go ahead.  
  
  
*  
  
From the door of the clinic, Elia watched the two Jedi bow and disappear, biting her bottom lip.   
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
Vending Station  
++++++++++  
  
  
A low craft zoomed back and forth showering the parched airfield. Stretching out for miles, the land was sprayed with a chemical sealant to prevent the air from becoming clouded with the fine powdery top soil. Continuing to follow the perimeter of the enormous enclosure, Qui-Gon spoke up, as Obi-Wan eased the speeder down an alleyway. There's something down here. Obi-Wan opened to the Force, playing off his companion's sensitivity.  
  
The alleyway opened to a grand display of shipping and receiving docks, like piers along a waterfront. Huge blocks of warehouses spanned the East side of the frontage road, their faces pitted by large mouths from which the craft entered and exited with their cargo.  
  
They proceeded down the street, aircraft skimming in lanes just above their heads. Although the entrances were a distance away, they were close enough the view the outlines of the creatures who manned they heavy equipment . Guiding the speeder into a shipping lane, they drove past one warehouse after another.  
  
Over there.  
  
Speeding around the back for a closer view, Obi-Wan's suspicions were aroused. Gammorean Boars.  
  
Let's find out what they are stocking.  
  
The younger lead the way as they abandoned the speeder along an off street and made for the mouth of the warehouse.  
  
Scanning the location up and down, Qui-Gon savored each detail, hoping this jigsaw would eventually make sense. But for now, something told him they were on the right track. Master and padawan walked single file along the edge of the Gammorean complex, perusing the the warehouse next to it. Only small vehicles could run this alley, and unlike the Gammorean facility, all the warehouse doors were opened on one side. Uniformed creatures bustled in and out with heavy welding masks disguising their faces. Inside, deep throated voices could be heard shouting over the chaos of day to day business.   
  
Qui-Gon guessed that the business centered on mechanical repair, but he was unable to identify the business of the boars as he peered through the dirty, shattered plexiglass windows. Not seconds later, did he hear the pounding of feet on pavement and spinning around, he turned to see a scrawny Simmian running towards them at full speed from one of the many garages that lined the warehouse.  
  
Eager to brandish his lightsaber, Obi-Wan reached to his belt, but Qui-Gon had just enough time to signal not to act too soon. Twice his height, Obi-Wan absorbed the pale creature's sprinting impetus and threw him against the boar's walls. Easily falling prey, the pliable creature smashed upside down against the wall and crashed to the concrete pavement.   
  
Qui-Gon stood a few paces away, admiring his padawan's work, for he could have done much more harm than he did, and then silently walked up to the slumped form. Bending down to his level, Qui-Gon asked if he was alright.  
  
What do you think you're doing? the Simmian said, rubbing his head.  
I know you, Obi-Wan said matter-of-factly, towering over the stunned albino creature. Your name's LeTauktch, and you were trying to attack us.  
  
You don't know me, and I was doing no such thing.  
  
You're the gatekeeper from Lepkaum. I met you with Healer Amelia.  
  
I don't know what you're talking about. He spat out a drizzle of blood.  
  
You are obviously a Simmian though, Qui-Gon mused, but not a slave. How is that so?  
  
How do you I'm not a slave?  
  
You'd be at a work detail right now, Qui-Gon stepped in, noticing his apprentice becoming quickly irritated. You know running towards someone at such a speed is likely to injure, or frighten, them. Assisting the Simmian rise from his place on the ground, Qui-Gon stood back as the creature shook off his aid. Waiting patiently for a reasonable response, he folded his arms into his robe and positioned himself in front of the man should he try to run off.  
  
In the meantime, Obi-Wan noticed a slight sting on the back of his neck. Touching the area with his hand, he saw the faint tinge of blood sprinkle his fingers. Stepping up to the creature, he opened his palm. Give it to me.  
  
  
  
Feigning innocence is not going to help you now.  
  
Quickly catching on, Qui-Gon moved in on him as well, increasing the pressure to respond.   
  
I don't know what you speak of. Shifty shoulders and wandering eyes told them otherwise.   
  
Show us your hands, Obi-Wan ordered trying to maintain composure as the creature kneaded his pockets.   
  
As you can see, you haven't many options, Qui-Gon intervened.  
  
Reeking with an odd body odor, the creature finally took his hands out of his pockets. Close palmed, he waited for them to come towards them, then tossed the disk far off.  
  
Ironically, he didn't run off back into the safety of the warehouse, but stood there momentarily waving his stringy body in a even paced nod.  
  
That was not a wise move.  
  
Seconds later, Obi-Wan held out his hand, and the disk came flying into it.   
His shoulders slumped.  
  
How was that done? What are you two? I thought you were human.  
  
We are. Now you'll tell us everything you know about this disk.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
Trafalgar Estate  
++++++++++  
  
  
Fianat stormed through the greystone mansion, elongating her strides as if to clear the span of the great hall in one giant sweep. Crossing the entrance way, a maid tagging along behind, she rhythmically tapped away at the lift button until the doors slowly dragged open. Not bothering to wait for the woman who dangled behind, she punched in the floor code. Pacing the small compartment, triangular hands bouncing off one another impatiently, Fianat brainstormed ways to address her father. It was critical she find him first, before anyone else, like Trafalgar, could taint her story.  
  
Dashing into the hallway, she swept through the portrait lined walls to her father's private office. Pausing before the door, she took a deep breath and settled her stray strands of hair by tucking them behind her ears. Smoothing down her hiked up skirt, she wiggled in nervousness before knocking on the door.   
  
It opened as if he'd expected her.   
  
Leopold lounged in a wicker chair facing his desk, his back to his daughter. Behind the desk, his plush black leather chair, his corporate throne, remained empty and glossed in the dim light of a distant lamp. She sensed something was wrong immediately; it wasn't like him to recline in this room. A slipper dangled from his foot as he balanced it on his adjacent knee, and his brown paisley robe was snugly wrapped around his pot belly.  
  
he sighed his daughter's name disconcertedly and picked up a sweating glass off the edge of his desk that left a ring of water on the waxed wood.  
  
Maybe it was the way he said her name, or the unusual position in which he sat, but she knew then that he had arranged the entire plan with the Sith.  
  
Oh father, what have you done? she exhaled the grievous words, afraid the consequences might spell the end.  
  
I should have known you'd have found out as soon.  
  
So you've sold the army we created?  
  
I created, he clarified.  
  
And what of the gene I created?! The quiet solitude that emanated from this office, burst in shards of betrayal and regret. You obviously sold that too. She looked away from him to the dark bookshelves and shadowy corners of the office. Her arms folded across her chest, her foot, tap, tap, tapping on the Persian rug, her chest constricting. I am sorry I was not born a man... to have pleased you better.  
  
Ah, Fianat, you would have done the same if it were your son.  
  
What are you talking about?  
  
  
The wind was knocked out of him, and the room seemed reel about. She had no idea of the real matter- and he'd nearly blurted it out! The army was just the tip of the iceberg, but was he ready to reveal the rest? Laboriously reaching over to set his glass back on his desk, he had to grasp the table for regain his equilibrium.  
  
she stepped forward, cautious of his movements, her tone mixed with concern and fury.  
  
It's alright, he held up his free hand to catch his breath. After a few moments, he plunged back against the wicker receiving chair. Although he appeared old and terribly frail to her, she didn't treat him any differently.  
  
Taking up her father's drink, she dumped it out and poured him another glass of Tzan. You should have told me.  
  
She held out the glass rigidly, and looked down at him from the tip of her nose. Her eyes pierced him like barbed arrows.   
  
Taking up the drink, he keenly waited for her to step away before he began. Returning the flask to the mini-bar, she turned her back on him only to pour herself a drink.  
  
Yes, I sold the army to the Sith. The same man who sold us the cloning technology to begin with. There was no way to refuse.  
  
But don't you see? He double played us. Returning to desk, she sat on the edge facing her father. That army is worth millions more now that the healing gene has been introduced.  
  
Pstahh! I don't care about the money. You and the children will be cared for the rest of your lives, and I'll be gone soon. Curel is yours to do with as you please.  
  
He had hoped she would have been more pleased with that final statement, but she merely snickered. So what's he going to do with the army?  
  
Leopold considered telling her the truth then, but foresaw her raging jealousy when he'd have to tell her that her brother had just been promoted to virtual kingship. We will continue to hold them until he has use for them.  
  
She gazed down on him, her eyes subtly narrowing, but if she didn't believe him, she made no mention of it then.   
  
Before she could begin her psychoanalysis of this last statement, he changed the subject. So you isolated the healing gene?  
  
We just got it, so they are working as we speak.  
  
You are awfully confidant of its viability, he mused, knowing the other sample didn't take.  
  
It won't be a problem. It was a short lived topic, for she suddenly seemed distracted and shifted her weight uneasily. Have you been in contact with Gary recently? Just by the tone in which she used her brother's pet name, Leopold could see the wheels of plot turning even as he denied the claim.  
  
Hmm, that's interesting because I just heard some intriguing news from Relvaire.  
  
Her father responded with a nasally guffaw. If he's your source of information these days, I might explore making new friends.  
  
She grinned gruesomely, Yes, well, it's good to know somebody's taking an interest in our politics. Highlighting the word somebody automatically suggested that Trafalgar wasn't doing his job on Bonadan, which everyone knew was true, but didn't bother with mentioning. After the short silence, she broke right to the point. The Chancellor has offered Senatorial seats to the Corporate Sector if we agree to begin to a tradeover.  
  
Recalling his last conversation with the Sith, he felt the blood escape his cheeks. This was what he was talking about, and now his daughter was trying to convince him to take it. Was this the face of temptation? Eve encouraging Adam to take the apple?  
  
He looked back up to his daughter's beautifully austere face and saw it in a new light. When was the offer made?  
  
Just today.  
  
And Relvaire informed you?   
  
She nodded. He wasn't asking the right questions. He hadn't even asked about how they would replace the labor, he just sat there brooding. Interrupting whatever came over him she pressed him to consider her words closely. Here's our chance, father. We should accept. Bonadan is bound to falter. After the Massacre, support throughout the galaxy has dwindled. We should get out while we can.  
  
Leopold avoided his daughter's powerful gaze, focusing on an image somewhere out in the distance. Sunk back into black wicker, ankle resting comfortably on his knee, the father reached for his drink. It had grown lukewarm, but he swallowed it down in great gulps anyway.   
  
She was growing impatient, he knew. In the soft light, he might have mistaken her for his wife. Hand on her hip, her weight balanced over her right leg, while her left foot tapped out a nervous rhythm. His wife had moved to Alderaan years ago, mercily. Now there was this one to contend with.  
  
What's there to ponder? You can see the advantages clearly. We don't want to lose our investors. It's critical we are on the right team before the .... she fumbled with the next words, but he understood her concern.  
  
But there was much he hadn't told her. There was her brother, which would infuriate her, but she would soon get over it when she received Tlaska in addition to Curel. But there was also that arrangement he had made when she was a little girl that would preserve their hegemony for a long, long time. And those bonds he could not endanger in any way.   
  
Let me think on it a while. I'll get back to you by tomorrow.  
  
She began a teenage rebuttal with a heavy flabbergasted huff. -But father, we must act now.  
  
I said- his deep bellowing voice and harsh tone immediately caused her to withdraw. Calming himself, he continued. I will think on it some more before I give you my decision. There is something I need to check on first.   
  
Her lips pressed into a firm line, but it was useless to pursue this further with him. He could be just as stubborn as she, and she would be on his case early tomorrow morning. She had faith that he would see the logic of her position, and therefore deferred any further comments.   
  
Bending close to him, she grabbed his arm and kissed him on the cheek before stepping out the door.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
The Vending Station- Offworld Warehouse  
++++++++++  
  
  
The sound of cheap fossil fueled motors in the cavernous building drowned out any hope of communication between the two Jedi and the Simmian who closely resembled LeTauktch, and the smell of burning oil tightened their lungs as they moved further inward. Belittled by the massive floating boxes and a lack of inquiring life forms, they easily slipped into the bowels of the Gammorean shipyard without attracting attention. Although the huge warehouse kept assembly line laborers loading and unloading gear, they didn't find it in the least odd to see visitors enter through this area and gave them no more than an initial glance. Inconspicuously exploring the unmarked crates, that were all tightly sealed, revealed nothing outwardly, and the lack of security signified nothing more than routine operations.   
  
Coming up to an office of sorts, which was really nothing more than a snack room enclosed by plexiglass sheeting, they singled out one the of type boars. Feet kicked up on a table in the break room, the boar didn't seem to notice their entrance, as he was entranced by the movement on the holonet which danced in the center of the room.   
  
Leading them across the room, LeTauktch maneuvered them around the mess of chairs and passed a single boar. A slow, lazy look in their direction followed by the cock of an eyebrow told Qui-Gon this guy did not wish to be bothered, and the boar returned his gaze to the holonet. But when Qui-Gon accidentally brushed against the boar's chair, the boar swung his head back around and glared him up and down as if to say, What the hell do want?  
  
Apologizing with a quick bow, Qui-Gon moved on, with a quick glance back of his shoulder for measure, but the boar appeared ambivalent to the disruption now that they were leaving.   
  
Threading their way between spinning wheels and beating turbines, the three came upon a workman's passage that seemed to lead away from the noisy clambering of primitive combustion based engineering into the offices. As they passed through the door, a sound barrier all but disintegrated the horrible racket booming a few meters away. Following LeTauktch, they turned into a room stacked high with smaller unmarked shipping crates. Although he couldn't see anyone inside, his senses told him someone was behind the mess.  
  
Boxes strewn carelessly in toppling piles made deceptive dead ends as they made they way to the back. The slipping of papers tipped them off to the presence of another, and as they weaved their way to the source, they happened upon the center of this mess. A desk, scattered with holocards and file disks appeared, behind who sat a snoozing boar. Qui-Gon cracked a smile as Obi-Wan circled behind the creature and nonchalantly topped over a teetering pile of stock cards, startling the worker awake. Taken off guard, he reached for what seemed hidden weapon, but stopped when LeTauktch called out his name.  
  
His throaty voice protested in Mandalorian. LeTauktch, what the hell? You know I'm a busy man. Obi-Wan was thankful he'd remembered the translator and had taken the time to slip in into his ear before their departure.  
  
LeTauktch wiggled and looked down bashfully. I just need a few more disks.  
The boar looked the Jedi up and down, first at Qui-Gon, then at Obi-Wan. What do you want, humans?   
  
We need to know about a certain item called a centrefuge.  
  
I don't speak Basic. What do they want? Qui-Gon looked to LeTauktch for assistance.   
  
More disks.  
  
Once the boar realized this, he chuckled out loud. You know you're supposed to bring in human blood, not the whole human. LeTauktch smiled and kicked the leg of the desk nervously.   
  
Qui-Gon fished out the disk-like device from his pocket and suspended it between his index finger and thumb.  
  
The demeanor of the boar changed instaneously and Obi-Wan gave him space to push his chair back whilst he reached up for the tallest boxes. You two are the oddest bounty hunters I've ever seen, and I've seen many, but to turn in your own kind.... Seeing him fumble this way and that for the stepping stool, Qui-Gon, who was nearly a foot taller than the beast, fetched the box for him.  
  
Even before he looked inside, Obi-Wan could hear the disks clank together as the weight of the box shifted. Waddling with sleepy legs, the boar hefted the box onto the disastrously messy desk, and asked how many they wanted.  
  
Qui-Gon peered from the box to Obi-Wan not sure how to take their new found discovery. And while they both had many questions, the translator could not speak for them. Where were the disks being sent? Who ordered them? What were they being used for?  
  
How many do you want? LeTauktch translated, speaking to the ground.  
  
Qui-Gon held up ten fingers and the Gammorean began counting them out and stuffed them into a dark colored plastic bag.  
  
Setting them on the edge of his desk, he expected them to leave and waved them off, but Qui-Gon had more questions.  
  
Who collects the samples?   
  
Well, what does he want? The heavy set boar looked to his Simmian counterpart for answers, but LeTauktch was reluctant to respond, even though the boar drilled him with expectant eyes. Look at me, slave, when I talk to you, the boar grunted harshly.   
  
Obi-Wan found it odd that LeTauktch would let the Gammorean talk to him that way, seeing as he ten times more agile than the beefy boar. But, terror reflected in his face at the command, and LeTauktch wrenched his head upwards. They want to know where to take them when they are full.  
  
Right here. You know that. Bring them right back here. He nodded in Qui-Gon's direction as he spoke the words and gestured to the floor.  
  
Ask who he's contracted with.  
  
They want to know the name of your buyer.  
  
You know that's confidential. You know that, LeTauktch. What the hell? Why do they want to know anyway?  
  
The boars eyes lengthened into small slits and he kept turning around to glance back at Obi-Wan.   
  
This isn't funny, LeTauktch. What are you trying to pull on me? The boar rounded the side of the desk, jabbing his stubby finger into the Simmian's spongy skin. You know what I could do to you?   
  
Coming within feet of Qui-Gon, the boar suddenly whipped around and fired from a hidden weapon towards Qui-Gon. Foreseeing the episode seconds before it happened, Qui-Gon skillfully dropped to a roll in the tight confines, missing the blaster fire by inches.   
  
In the raucous, LeTauktch took off into the hallways, tripping over the array of boxes. Quick to respond, Obi-Wan leaped over the desk and bolted after him. If this guy knew as little as he claimed, he wouldn't be running so fast, Obi-Wan realized, increasing his efforts. LeTauktch's pliable limbs kept him one step ahead of Obi-Wan, as did his knowledge of the intricate passageways. But the Jedi was led by the Force, keeping him hot on the heels of his prey.   
  
Rounding unfamiliar corners, the creature burst through an unmarked door into a booming generator room. Seconds later, Obi-Wan followed up and was immediately faced with a labyrinth of moving parts. The confines were tight and ill-lit and filled with a rhythmic patter and clink that echoed in the isolated machine room. Cautiously brandishing his lightsaber, Obi-Wan stealthily worked his way through the passages, surveying each niche as he passed. Through the heavy bolts and wide metal pieces, he picked up a flash of white as the space opened and closed again. Senses alert, he moved efficiently towards the color, but it was gone when the space reopened. Rounding the aisle of machine to the left, he spotted his prey.   
  
*  
  
Scantily scraping by a workman's bench, LeTauktch knicked the top of a tool box, the tools clattering against the steel webbed floor. Scampering into a corner, he hunched low and peered out to locate his pursuer. After a few minutes of nervous stillness and uncontrollable sweating, he risked a dash towards the exit.   
  
*  
  
Obi-Wan detected his catch in a shadowy corner two or three machines away. Inching forward with the grace of a feline predator, he stalked the mousey creature from behind the metal grinding of a compressor. To his surprise, the animal suddenly bolted from the safety of his corner, and the Jedi pounced forward. The floor clanked with each footfall announcing an attack, and in a moment of panic, Le LeTauktch sealed his fate. Squirming between a gauntlet of moving gears, the limber Simmian sucked in his breath and narrowly slipped between two pair of interlocking wheels- trapping him.   
  
  
  
*****  
  
Meanwhile, Qui-Gon had been able to disarm the boar, but not without a fight. Kicking the blaster out of his fingered hoof, the boar reached for a three bladed knife, or covat. Allowing Qui-Gon to get up, he beckoned him on. Working his way up slowly, the Jedi summoned the Force, and projected the boar across the room. Motionless in pile of centrefuge disks, Qui-Gon abandoned the creature and began exploring the room. Holodisks cluttered the desk, but he was unable to decipher what was written, as it was all documented in a foreign script. Nonetheless, he slipped a holopad into his pocket for good measure.   
  
Working his way to the back of the room, he noticed the gentle hum of a machine, and wondered if more technical parts lay behind the wall. Checking the top boxes revealed unopened encasements of empty disks, but none were labeled in any way. The sheer number of boxes lead him to believe this was more than a simple operation, but it wasn't until he reached the back that he began to realize its extent.  
  
  
*****  
  
Obi-Wan came upon him slowly, extinguishing his weapon. I thought you said you had nothing to hide.   
  
It's true. I know nothing. His eyes summed up his prison and the confines were so limited, he could scarcely wipe the sweat dripping into his eyes.  
  
You attacked me with a centrefuge. Why?  
  
15 ducats per sample.   
  
Why me?   
  
You looked the weaker of the two. Obi-Wan thought this new found boldness reflected the fact that LeTauktch suddenly realized Obi-Wan couldn't get in that far to harm him. The space was too narrow.  
  
Heaving a sigh of frustration, he clarified. Why not the boars? Why not their blood?  
  
Human blood makes the most profit.   
  
Although Obi-Wan couldn't attack even if he wanted, he battered him with questions instead. I saw you attack another human at the marketplace, but someone else got the sample before you. Anisse Nobel.  
  
LeTauktch stammered like a woodpecker. Okay, so that was me, but you were there, I didn't get the sample.  
  
What do you know of the bounty hunter?  
  
Growing bold, the nocturnal looking creature moved his face close to the steel machine work that separated them. That will cost you.  
  
Pressing his lips together until they turned white, Obi-Wan slipped his lightsaber inbetween the beams, threatening to crush his adam's apple, that bobbed nervously as he swallowed.   
  
He stepped back, but the weapon was long enough to move with him. In surrender, his trembling palms shook innocently. Anisse Nobel. Yes, bounty hunter. But I didn't know... I mean, that Healer was on everybody's hit list.  
  
You knew her then?  
  
Please don't hurt... the Simmian's trembling voice disintegrated into hyperventilating gasps. Then his eyes sprung wide with fear when Obi-Wan yanked back his blade then whipped around to hammer it in the steel bar above his head, insides roaring with anger. The Simmian slumped in fear, his eyes scanning above his head where the lightsaber pierced the machinework, but when he looked back to Obi-Wan, the Jedi had distinguished his lightsaber.  
  
What about Healer Thaum? he began again, calmly.  
  
I just did what they told me.  
  
Who told you to do what? The Simmian looked about the confining space seeking a way out, but there there seemed to be little options.  
  
The bounty hunter, she threatened me. Offered me freedom and said slavery was evil. She asked me to hold Thaum at the gate. I didn't know she was going to hurt Healer Thaum, he stuttered half whining, his face creasing into a terrified grin.   
  
Obi-Wan commanded, lighting his saber again.   
  
The Simmian stammered on, After he was shot, I called the guards. And after he was shot, I saw her swoop down and take something...  
  
Take what?  
  
He was crying now, and slouched against the vibrating metal. I don't know. I didn't see, he choked.   
  
Interrupted by a clatter from above, the Simmian shouted out for help, and Obi-Wan heard a stampede of feet clanging on the upper walkways in their direction. With one last intense look at the Simmian, he abandoned his catch and fled to escape.   
  
  
  
*****   
  
  
Qui-Gon paused momentarily before the massive refrigeration unit. Thousands and thousands of disks were dumped into clear barrels. Hesitant to open the door and see the truth for himself, the Jedi master paused momentarily before opening the frosty shield and breaking open an encasing.  
  
He wondered where one could possibly obtain such a pool of blood samples. If these samples had been retrieved only from the Vending Station, wouldn't the authorities have notified the public? Taking a handful, he shoved them into his other pocket, careful to keep them sealed.   
  
Pressing on the inside of the walls of the cold unit, he soon realized the barrels were loaded from the back side.   
  
Schoom, schoom, schoom. Qui-Gon ducked out of the cooling unit, narrowly missing the blaster fire and instaneously blocking the close range fire from the Gammorean. The sound of his approach must have been drowned out in the hum of the cooling unit's generator. With a long sweep of his weapon, he tore through the boar's recovered blaster then tackled him, his right shoulder plowing into the boar's massive gullet. The two landed in a tower of boxes, disks flying everywhere. Brandishing his covat, the boar slashed into Qui-Gon's arm, as he struggled to separate himself from the chaos. Rolling aside through the crates, Qui-Gon was able to hoist himself up and kick the knife out of his opponent's hand. Before the boar was able to fully recover, he shoved the boar back onto the crates, and darted out before security was alerted.   
  
  



	11. Senate Acts

The Senate Acts 

++++++++++  
Walkar  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
As much as she wanted to escape Bonadan, it had been her home for six years, and the thought of leaving left a hollow imprint on her psyche. The troops barricaded themselves outside forming a metallic ring about the clinic, but it offered little comfort. Needless to say, Elia didn't like being left behind while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan deserted them for some vague lead. The bounty hunter was long gone with her blood, most likely to be replicated and used in the cloning industry to enhance genetic supercreations. Unable to fathom the prospect of being cloned and spending her days as a slave, or worse yet, a scientific experiment, she distracted herself by packing up the few items she had accumulated here on Bonadan. Without the distractions, the task would have been easy. There wasn't much she wanted other than clothes, her journals, and a few other personal items. Li'sarrow instructed them to leave all that was there when they arrived, even though they weren't being replaced anytime soon. Nonetheless, Ruebyn promised all would be cleaned and returned to its rightful home.  
  
A couple of months ago, she might have maintained a firm faith that the Republic would come to their aid, that somehow the people would see the injustice of slavery and band together to fight it, but this illusion had faded quickly when put to the test.   
  
Her brooding was interrupted, though by a wooden crash just outside the back door, right next to her room. Dashing over the boxes of personal belongings, she found the guards had overstacked the shipping crates in the transport, and they had toppled in the process.   
  
We've got to take this now. We can't fit anything else, one of the uniformed men said as two others struggled to pack them back in.   
  
Alright, fine, Li'sarrow submitted. There's still plenty of you to keep this place secure.  
  
By the time you get back, we'll be ready for another load, Ruebyn arched her back after hauling another load of boxes down the hall. What time did you want to have the service?  
  
Up to this point, Elia had simply been watching, but here she interjected. What service?   
  
How are you doing on your packing? M'Li'sarrow drilled the young woman without glancing up from her balancing act of smaller boxes.   
  
I'm nearly ready. Take a look.  
  
Placing the items in the back of the trailer, she allowed the soldier to slam it closed with an obtrusive clanking. Dusting off her hands, Li'sarrow peered into her healer's gutted cell. Nearly ready' might be a mild way to describe it.   
  
Elia lowered her head and struggled for a humoring grin when Ruebyn broke the discomfort. We're holding the funeral rites for the victims of the Benzoic Massacre in a couple hours.  
  
she asked, as Ruebyn followed their master down the hall.   
  
When you are done packing your cell, work on the kitchen, Li'sarrow commanded, leaving Elia in her door frame.  
  
*  
  
They met the Simmians outside the Lepkaum gates, a safe distance from each other and the electrified gate. Beckoned by Li'sarrow's siren's song, an iridescent mass slowly emerged into the light of day from their cavelike dwelling. Like creatures of the deep sea, they glowed as if from an inner luminous source, a silent shared mourning for their peers. Still refused admittance, Li'sarrow gathered her Healers about the blackened wrought iron and continued the reverent chant. Hands empty, no book to guide her thoughts or words or religious iconography to lift her eyes, her song told the tale.   
  
Nervous guards, grunting in agitation, barreled into the mystified crowd, but were merely bounced back and forth in the mass. WIth no intention of ceasing her lamentation, Li'sarrow stepped into the street and sang louder, drawing a crowd of Bondani.   
  
Though familiar with the ritual, the healers eyes darted back and forth with caution, to the guards, to the Bondani, to the Simmians, whilst their master sang on in the street without reserve. Lining the gate, they folded their hands and whispered the words their master dared sing aloud.   
  
Particularly distracted by the earlier incident, Elia flashbacked to an empty courtyard, Thaum's blood pooling over the bricks, LeTauktch speaking to her from the voice link. She looked over to Thaum, eyes closed, swaying with the hymn. An angelic chorus, they prayed in whatever way their knew for the souls of the lost. A deathly stillness of self-realization drained the color from her face as she remembered the holocast in confinement, a subtle form of torture from the inquisitor. Defenseless families were ripped apart by exploding flesh when the poison was released. The bodies dropped a pile a bones, and the frantic horror of imminent death. What could undo what has already played out?  
  
  
Whipping around, the group changed before her eyes. They were in heaven, ghosts, transient beings, in white tunics. And like zombies, their eyes glazed over, they sang alongside Li'sarrow, their necks straining like some Carravaggio saint or Wrath-induced Jim. A faint bluish brushstroke bled up from their collars, victims of her inactivity. Falling from the cloudy vision back into her body, she knew her purpose, even it would be her fall to Darkness. She would kill M'ztka.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
Transmission to Bonadan  
++++++++++  
  
  
Thrilled with the news, the Governor shared the new information with his Senator, now in hiding on Myrtle, though he was less than receptive about the incident.  
  
I don't know what's going on there, but I'd advise you to be discreet, Din hissed with frustration. The whole plan was too easy, too good to be true, it sounded like bait to him.  
  
Ignoring his concern, M'ztka continued on nonchalantly. You wouldn't believe what they did today. Some religious rite or service. Nearly started another riot, he waved off the last few words.  
  
Yes, I know, and the galaxy prayed with them.  
  
This will be forgotten in a matter of months with our new plan. Confidant in all Trafalgar had described to him, M'ztka worked through the reasoning. Everything fits together. Tlaska and Mandalor can't exist without Bonadan influence. It is wise for them to forge a treaty now.  
  
The Senate is not going to react as you think. You're a fool if you think Mandalor and Bonadan can defeat the whole of the Republic on this matter. Tensions are extremely high, M'ztka. Our investors are voting conservatively and our few allies have their reputation to consider.  
  
That doesn't matter anymore. It will take years for the Senate to create a committee and debate over the restrictions of how the new militia will be run, and by that time, the transition to cloning will be in effect.  
  
Do you really think the OASR will allow you to begin? Din's argument fell on deaf ears, as M'ztka was merely informing of his decision, not asking his thoughts.  
  
That's just it, man. It has already begun.  
  
The Senator paused to consider the ramifications, but M'ztka's rapacity for power made him a brick wall to common sense. He did have cunning though, and once the transition had been made, its not as if they could automatically deplete their work force. Clones would only be fit for slavery. What kind of life could they be expected to lead outside the caretaker? M'ztka's trump card was speed.  
  
But this didn't explain why Leopold had chosen to stand by Bonadan's side when all other's were jumping ship.   
  
What is Mandalor gaining from all this?  
  
They want the first installments to be tested here.  
  
Maybe they are testing the Senate's reaction.  
  
Yes, of course they are. But that would be your job, wouldn't it?  
  
I can't perform miracles. It's worse than you think. What used to be a feuding crowd has conjoined against us. The Chancellor is centralizing the governing forces and the OASR has a chapter on nearly every system now.  
  
The governor grunted on this last comment.   
  
What are you doing with them?  
  
Tomorrow they tour our facilities and I'll make the deal.  
  
Where are you sending them?  
  
Someplace discreet.  
  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
How did you get out? Li'sarrow asked with concern, overseeing Ruebyn spray Qui-Gon's wound with antiseptic.  
  
We met back where we left the speeder, he explained cringing ever so slightly from the sting of the medicine.  
  
Master, perhaps we should show them the results? Obi-Wan did not waste time on such trivial technicalities.   
  
Yes. I've already given Healer Thaum the centrefuge disks. I was wondering if someone might browse this though and see what you are able to decipher. I think its written in Mandalorian, but I can't be sure. Handing off a mini-holopad to Tetre, Qui-Gon sat back down and hoped for the best. This dilemma was burgeoning into a critical state, and he was plagued with hints of the dark side. Refocusing on the present, he watched the healer command the computer to interpret the files.   
  
Meanwhile, Healer Elia strolled out of the kitchen with a tray of tea. As a staple in this household, it was one of the few things that had not been packed away. Pouring the hot water through a brimming sieve, she served her peers. The real question is why is there a market for human blood samples.  
  
Genetic engineering? A biological weapon? Obi-Wan suggested, thanking her for the steaming brew.  
  
But why at the Vending Station? Why not a doctor's office? Or some place where a mass amount of samples would be available on file? Someplace where you would have a knowledgeable background of what kind of samples you're getting, Elia continued.   
  
Thanks, babe, Meerpa complimented the tea and added, Obviously, its not that valuable of a commodity if they are only paying that much per sample. How much was that Jedi Obi-Wan?  
  
D15 ducats.  
  
How does your arm feel? Kiana asked motherly, gingerly patting Qui-Gon's shoulder.  
  
Its fine, thank you. Uninterrupted, the older Jedi pressed Tetre for answers. So there's nothing of value on that holopad?  
  
I need a minute to download all the files before we know for certain, but it looks more like a scratch pad to me.  
  
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan watched Thaum work in the small enclosed laboratory that opened to the right side of the common area. Treatment Room A connected with it on the other side, and Thaum temporarily ran in to look for more slides. There was really only enough room for two people, so Obi-Wan stayed out of the way as Meerpa extracted tiny droplets from the confiscated disks and smudged them onto slides. Thaum examined the samples under a microscope first, then commanded the computer to do a full blood work up. Yes, the computer says they are all human blood and they don't seem to have any major abnormalities, he shouted through the clear plexiglass sheeting.  
  
Why on Bonadan in general? Qui-Gon thought aloud to himself, sipping his tea.   
  
I can't imagine this market is isolated to Bonadan exclusively. The human population is relatively small, Li'sarrow noted from her corner on the couch.  
  
It's got be the proximity to their base of operations, he answered. We'll need a list of all the bio-engineering corporations on this system, Qui-Gon ordered, Tetre already compiling a list even as he spoke the words.  
  
We might also benefit from obtaining a list of all organizations belonging to the CSA, Obi-Wan added, not forgetting Qui-Gon's earlier concern about this private meeting between Kiltma and Chlak, and the mysterious Tlaska representative. The information might come in handy.  
  
Why might you need that? Ruebyn asked from across the room.   
  
Obi-Wan looked to his master to answer that question. We can cross-reference activity with the information. Obi-Wan hadn't thought of it that way, but it wasn't such a bad idea. He was glad nothing was mentioned of this strange meeting though, as they still needed to do some research before that prospect could even be validated.   
  
  
At the same time, Obi-Wan noticed Elia step back into the kitchen and crossed the common area to address her privately.   
Did you need more tea? she asked when she saw him in the doorway, wrapping up more cups from the day's packing.  
  
Be careful. It was unusual for him to say exactly what he felt, and he immediately regretted the directness of this statement, but it was an instinctual reaction to his heart.  
  
she feigned confusion.  
  
Whatever it is you're planning on doing. the Living Force quaked in him, reverberating off her such that she had to look away. Changing the subject, he ran his fingers through his hair and got to the point. I didn't mention it to anyone else, but I think I saw LeTauktch again. He pressed a hand on the edge of the countertop and kicked his other fist on a hip, expecting a surprised reaction. He claimed he didn't know who I was talking about, but later admitted to being present at the Vending Station, and at Thaum's attack.  
  
Her hand drifted to her chest and her eyes glazed over. denial bounced her head left and right. Simmians are loyal to the healers.  
  
It was him, Elia. And he knows the bounty hunter, Anisse Nobel. He said she took something from the site after Thaum was shot. It could have been a blood sample.  
  
There's no way they would have let him survive. She seemed to be adjusting to the idea that LeTauktch could have possibly betrayed her when the kettle on the stove began to whistle. Fumbling for a hot pad, she lifted the kettle from the heat and set it on the tile counter top.   
  
She offered him freedom for his assistance.  
  
He watched her fiddle with the tea tray, pouring the boiling water into a steeping kettle filled with another batch of tea. There's more. He also said there's a price for you, or your blood. He wasn't explicit.  
  
The tea cup rattled against the saucer as she filled it. Moving closer to her for assurance, he clutched her elbow.   
  
She has sensed something about to change, a life altering change, but didn't know how to approach it other than wait and be at the ready when it came knocking. I'm not afraid of whatever happens, she interjected boldly, lifting her chin high to match his penetrating gaze.   
  
Very well, he knew it was no use fighting her. But its important you leave with Li'sarrow, he said, running his calloused palm down her arm. I know you don't want to leave them, but it's the only way you'll be safe.  
  
I don't care about being safe, Obi-Wan, she snapped, setting down a brimming cup such that the boiling tea slopped across the countertop.   
  
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned his hip against the counter watching her scramble to clean up the tea. Would you stop just a moment and listen, please, he helped her dry up the mess, then took her by the shoulders and forced her to face him.   
  
We're going to try to retrieve your blood, and Thaum's.  
  
  
I appreciate it, but it's too late for that. If you want to help, help free the Simmians.  
  
You of all people should know, it's not that easy.  
  
WIth nothing else to comment, they merely stood quiet in the dim light of the kitchen. Hooking her hands along his forearms, she rubbed up his sleeves distractedly, worry creasing her brow.   
  
He knew she wouldn't go with Li'sarrow, and worried about what the refusal might lead her to do. How far would she go?  
  
In the other room, the intercom rang causing them to jump; Ruebyn answered as the room grew silent. But with little more than a single affirmation, she disconnected.  
  
We've been requested in Aklina. Obi-Wan overheard Ruebyn announce to the party and shifted to the doorway, Elia poking her head behind him.  
  
Another accident? Kiana eyes widened.  
  
No. M'ztka wants to deal.  
  
  
++++++++++  
Aklina  
Azurite Mine  
++++++++++  
  
  
As you can see, our work force is cared for by a higher standard of living than that of over 44% of Core World Systems, the droid sweetly incanted to the group of healers and diplomats leading them through the new apartments and housing quarters in Aklina. The holo videographers, spherical hover droids, panned across an indoor playground enclosed in plexiglass sheeting, although children were nowhere to be found.  
  
I suppose its not hard to figure out why, Elia held back from commenting as the vidroids had a sensitive auditory system, but a sideways glance towards Obi-Wan let her know her sentiments were shared.  
  
M'ztka, with coercion from Din, had set up the holovised broadcast with the hope that sympathies would be swayed in their direction if only the general populace understood more about their situation. Thus, in an unusual extension of goodwill, he invited the two Jedi, the healers detained for supposed treason, Elia and Kiana, and the two Republic representatives, Kiltma and Chlak to tour the site. Together the group journeyed into the new Aklina facility, anxious and suspicious.   
  
  
Qui-Gon strolled alongside Kiltma, reserving his questions for a more appropriate time. Before the tour, the group had been specifically instructed not to interrupt the host droid and limit personal comment to after the recording. Now was not the time to aggravate the circumstances with misleading comments, the Jedi Master agreed to himself, satiated that the galaxy would soon be viewing the empty gesture and the Senate voting to abolish slavery.   
  
Obi-Wan however, wondered how much trouble this elaborate staging had cost the greedy Governor. As they weaved their way through the technological labyrinth, its ritualistic facade reminisced of the poor Athenians sacrificial encounter with the Cretin Minotaur. Nevertheless, he sharpened his awareness and paid keen attention to the details the droids avoided.  
  
From the resident quarters, they were lead outdoors to another section of the plant. A skywalk overlooked an ornate eighteenth century English garden, but the lack of souls in this enormous enclosure disturbed them; it was as if the place had been deserted, the landscape nothing more than an opulent faberge eggshell. Kiana wondered to herself when, if, or how the highly structured imported garden was ever used or shared with anyone other than the ruthless investors that supported sweat shops like these. They didn't deserve this kind of beauty when all their hands were capable of producing was, at best, degenerative.  
  
Nonetheless, she couldn't help but to be entranced by the fragrant bird of paradise floating up to them on the gentle breezes. Unable to resist, she leaned over railing to take it all in. Lingering a moment as the others moved on, she noticed a blooming ivy latticed up the sky walk. In a color so intensely yellow-orange, the petals seemed to reach beyond the confines of its dimensions. Like the burning bush, its colors glimmered and refracted light in a myriad of angles. Its scent, intoxicating and overbearing, demanded homage. Slyly snaking towards the ivy, she plucked from the plant its thick stalk. Its sugary whiteness bled into a thickening pool at the tip which she immediately turned away from lest someone notice the missing piece. Secreting it in her pocket, she picked up her pace to catch up with the moving group.  
  
  
Opening to a small art gallery of ancient blown glass artifacts the droid went on the explain the Simmian heritage honored in the exhibit. This unique teal color was invented by the Simmians using the green sand found deep in the hills that arose after the Great Earthquake. A sign of Simmian pride in their ability to persevere throughout tragedy, this fine artwork helped the Simmian race rebuild their economy...  
  
Elia took the commentary with a grain of salt, well versed in Simmian ancestry. A wise move on M'ztka's part, however, as those viewing from afar would be unable to discern twisted deviations from the truth.  
  
Beyond the fragile whiteness and false light of the studio spanned a long, deep hallway, stretching deep into the plant itself like a transcending river. Inlaid were magnetically encased glassware including vases, pitchers, and amphorae, each depicting a floral and fauna theme revealing a period of well being and rich harvest before the Bondani invasion.  
  
Golden threads intertwined an inverted cone and sprouted off the top in a gentle curl off which hung a delicate pink crystal ball representing the mannahi that grew in abundance off limbs of yellow. The selection further inward became more abstract and used richer toned dyes that verged on opacity.   
  
These pieces remember the earthquake...  
  
Soft swirls were replaced with angular points and finely cut dimensional crystal. Elia stopped for a moment at one piece deliberately, interrupted by the reflection of the vidroid as it closed in behind her. An island of sharp crystallized green surrounded the jagged mountains that jutted from the corner of the island in a dark brown majesty.  
  
Resembles skyscrapers, does it not? Qui-Gon intervened in a more obvious manner though no one outwardly responded. Obi-Wan smiled to himself that only his Master would feel comfortable slightly bending the rules of protocol to make a point.   
  
  
At the conclusion of their trip, M'ztka greeted them each personally before a barrage of media. The lights starred their eyes as they attempted to make sense of their new surroundings. Inadvertently sheltering the group behind him and Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon politely demanded to know why the exposure was necessary.   
  
Well, I've a proposal to make, Jedi. See how this suits your needs. M'ztka smiled at the holovids and turned away from the huddling visitors. Bonadan is willing to free all of its slaves.   
  
The words echoed over the city's emergency intercom, and a rumble issued forth, buzzing with anticipation. Yes, all slaves are free, as long they agree to leave one thing on Bonadan. Their blood, he held up his finger and squinted his eyes. With one pint, we'll be able to rotate our workforce with generational clones...  
  
He went onto to explain, but the galaxy was trapped in an universal gasp, until Qui-Gon interrupted the unbelievable spiel. Stepping forward, the Jedi held up his hands calmly. The Republic no doubt appreciates your offer, but we cannot accept. The Republic has not established the cloning laws-  
  
Perhaps if you were as interested in the Simmians as you claim, they're own situation might sway you. This is my compromise. I give you three days to discuss this, and give me an answer.  
  
Reaching out to his shoulder before he stepped down, Qui-Gon retained the governor to whisper fiercely in his ear. Be careful, Governor. I fear it is likely to be dangerous for you at this time.  
  
Don't threaten me. If anyone needs protecting, you'll be needing it from the thousands of Simmians who will be cursing you and the healer's name for generations.  
  
Releasing his grip, the Jedi allowed the Governor to slip back through the media, struck by the impending doom that was sure to arise from this hasty decree.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Coruscant  
Senate Building  
++++++++++  
  
  
Now that the courts had deferred a ruling on the legality of slavery, a special convention of the Senate had been ordered to make a decision.   
  
We all saw the holocast. The Governor is trying to win us over with petty illusions of humanity to distract us from the truth, Cato Antilles' logic could not be denied, even from slavery supporters. Compromised since the beginning of this ordeal, they now seemed resolved that change would come about either way. We need to vote now, and therefore I move we abolish slavery in the Republic, he continued, the Senate Building itself rumbling with anxiety. The moment had finally come.  
  
Very well, Chancellor Vallorum began, Is there a second motion?  
  
I second the motion, Senator Mon Mothma floated forward on her hover craft, smiling at Cato from across the expanse.  
  
Please vote now. The Chancellor's ordination leveled the raucous to a hum as the Senators secured their votes. Time seemed limitless in the following microseconds; though most had already been instructed by higher powers on how they should vote, there were so many parties involved it was impossible to predict the outcome.  
  
Indisposed to get her hopes up, Monmothma rationalized that it was very possible that the motion could fail. The most influential people in politics had money, and they made their money in the corporate world. Ethics did not matter to these people, and that is why this Governor M'ztka was humored for his ideas such as cloning slaves.   
  
Mon Mothma merely sighed when the motion passed, but the congregation as a whole wailed incessantly in anger, in disbelief, and in relief.  
  
Order! Order, the aide commanded over the chaos. The Chancellor has the floor.  
  
The Chancellor stood, and little by little, they began to quiet. We will need a committee to draft a method of procedure and consequences.... his voice trailed off when he should have been concentrating on this new issue involving cloning. Senator Palpatine will head of a group of 15 volunteers. If you would like to be on the committee, please indicate so now.  
  
Mon Mothma fidgeted with the viewscreen, watching the numbers of volunteers increase to over three hundred. She had to be on that committee, but getting chosen by these means seemed unlikely. There were too many slaving planets who rested their livelihood on sorting through the details, and Senator Palpatine had probably already hand picked his core team. Nonetheless, she put her number in the pot.  
  
Senator Palpatine, we will meet again in one week to review your proposal. Palpatine bowed from his hover podium, but looked up when interrupted from across the great hall.  
  
Forgive me, Chancellor, Mon Mothma began sternly, but M'ztka has threatened to begin cloning his current slaves in three days. We should be prepared to act before that time.  
  
She's right, Cato supported from afar. Slavery or not, this type of cloning is illegal to to say the least. He cannot be allowed to proceed.  
  
Vallorum agreed. Senator Palpatine, can you be prepared in two days?  
  
It seems unlikely, but we will do what we can.  
  
Very well. We meet again in two days. This meeting is adjourned.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
Relvaire's Apartment  
++++++++++  
  
  
He wouldn't dare!?! Relvaire's words faded into sheer disbelief after viewing the holocast. He can't just do that, he gawked open handed at the viewscreen.   
  
Not surprised, Fianat leaned over the back of the couch, close to Relvaire's ear. You're right. He can't give away what is not legally his, she mimicked in finality. she uncrossed her arms and stretched up, pointing a testy finger towards the ceiling as she made her way over to the bar. He can chose to throw away our business.  
  
Her bare feet padded across the plush carpets, and she made no effort to tuck in her silk shirt.   
  
What? You're going to pull all your business from Bonadan in three days? Relvaire looked at her in disbelief.   
  
Knocking back her head for a quick shot of scotch, she sneered like a trapped animal. Obviously M'ztka doesn't care what the Corporate Sector thinks. He's going to do whatever he wants.  
  
That's it, he roared decisively. We're taking the Chancellor's deal with or without your father's support, Relvaire stood and called out to his serving droid.  
  
Wait a minute, she bantered nervously recalling her father's wrath when she'd approached him with the subject. You can't simply call up the Chancellor and say we agree. The CSA can't do this without Tlaska. We need their support.  
  
Commanding the droid to contact all CSA members, he ignored Fianat's concerns and made plans for urgent meeting.  
  
*  
  
Within two short hours, all ten primary members of the CSA were sitting anxiously about Relvaire's apartment.  
  
Here it is, Fianat began, immediately taking the lead. The Governor has officially cut all ties with us.  
  
What about Trafalgar? He's the only one who really knows what's gone on around there.  
  
Yes, where is he? Or is he with M'ztka in all this, and has just left the rest of us out to dry?   
  
Did someone call them?  
  
They'll be here, Fianat snapped. Getting back to the point of all this, she reminded the crew, what do we do with M'ztka?  
  
Death hung on everyone's lips, but none were brave enough to say it, and so rerouted the line of questioning.  
  
What is M'ztka anyway? Det thought aloud. He is Bonadan, and what does that mean to us if we pull our support of Bonadan?  
  
For one, we'll have to relocate all of our business, and that means securing a new workforce.  
  
So we go ahead and release all our labor?! We can't afford to do that, Relvaire indicated matter-of-factly.  
  
If we relocated, we'd take the slaves with us.  
  
There is no way we could do that without drawing incredible publicity, and once that damned OASR hears of it, it'll be just like Bonadan all over- no matter where we go.  
  
What does the Mandalorian government propose?   
  
They'll do whatever we tell them to. Don't let it concern you.  
  
Alright then, but what about-  
  
When Leopold and Trafalgar entered, the crowd barely offered them a contemptuous look and went on with the debate.   
  
-What about the OASR? They won't back down until we've been made an example of, Det continued, eyes creasing into narrow slits as Trafalgar brushed passed him.  
  
For that, Relvaire held up an empty glass, we might have a solution. A quick glance to Fianat signaled he was going to let the cat out of the bag, but a mean elongated glare at Trafalgar hinted at more malicious intentions.  
  
Well, now that Trafalgar's here, I suppose we could ask him to explain what's been happening over there on Bonadan, but I wouldn't want to inconvenience him with a report. So I'll just fill you in on what we know.  
  
Excuse me, my friend, Leopold intruded as he sat back into an empty spot on the sofa. I fear your source of information, he all but nodded in Fianat's direction, may have been tainted.  
  
Fianat growled, low and heavy, accentuating the F in a way that verged on disrespect.   
  
Overlooking the usual attitude, he was forced to clarify for they all demanded to know exactly what was meant by the statement. The Chancellor tried to convince us to take in criminal laborers, if you can believe that, he laughed it off for the ridiculous idea it was, but Fianat burned hot at the subtle rejection.  
  
That's not all it was, she begged to explain.  
  
And how would you know? her brother snarled irritated, as it were, by her very presence.  
  
Her silver painted lips pressed together tightly, and violet eyes returned her brother's piercing gaze. It was obvious you couldn't be trusted, so I went out there myself. The newly pressed steel gray pantsuit, accentuated by stiletto heals, elongated her already lengthy frame, highlighting her inherent austerity while clunky white diamonds sparkled off her fisted hands, tucked firmly on her angular hips. We all know what a fine job you've been doing out there, but it was time for some real work to be done.   
  
Quick to back Fianat, Relvaire seemed intent on degrading the youth in front of his colleagues. So what have you been doing all this time on Bonadan, other than siring a multitude of foreigners?  
  
He snickered, almost entertained by the notion. That's kept me busy, but in my spare moments, I've made a few contacts.  
  
Let's just cut to the chase, boy, his father interrupted with all seriousness. But let me be clear, what is said in this room, stays in this room. Leo's personal escorts surrounded the room suddenly rising out of the shadows as if they had never been there.   
  
We all agree that something has to be done with M'ztka, but don't let that concern you anymore. The silence that followed this statement left the group with a sudden lack of air. They pulled at their expensive collars and uncrossed their legs, just to re-cross them. Leopold was careful to make eye contact with each of the members, and they didn't dare look away lest they seem defiant. All but Fianat, who folded her arms and turned her back on him, still sore from his rebuttal. She could have taken care of this herself, and it annoyed her that her father insisted on embarrassing her in front of this crowd.   
  
  
A little hurt, Leopold consoled himself with the hope she would eventually come around, as always. It will be taken care of, he affirmed, but once he's out of the way, the real question becomes what will we do with our business.   
  
Let M'ztka do what he wants with the slaves, Trafalgar wasted no time with words. When we collect the insurance policies, Bonadan's treasury will be empty. Tlaska will take care of the rest.   
  
Quietly scoffing this idea, the investors merely swept it under the table. What will we do in the meantime? Shut down? We'll lose billions... Det's concern shone on all their faces.   
  
Trust me. It's all been taken care of.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Senate Palpatine Offices  
Coruscant  
++++++++++  
  
  
No, thank you, but if anything comes up, we will definitely keep you in mind, Palpatine's assistant slithered back to his place beside the Senator, whispering in his ear. Mon Mothma again. The older man raised his brows at the information, but did not visually divert his attention from the speaker.  
  
In refusing to cooperate, Bonadan has signed its death warrant. Not a system in the galaxy can back them now, a former slaving supporter sighed.   
  
We must act immediately, Polonius from Malastare intruded. We've warned them with military advancement for too long now, and our supposed resources, Kiltma and Chlak, have proved entirely incompetent- not to mention the trouble caused by those idiotic Jedi Healers. If we look the other way, we'll appear incapable fools.   
  
Senator Palpatine inhaled a stealthy smile at Polonius' words. If there was one area of expertise Palpatine had plenty of time to develop, it was surely his ability to read people. He had hand picked his core team members, a seemingly varied bunch, some OASR supporters, and some slavers, but both sides were easily manipulated and feared him.  
  
You are absolutely correct, another spoke up. I think what we've been saying for quite a while is that we need to take stronger measures. Reinstating an interstellar army might be our best bet.   
  
Even if a few didn't agree, they all shook their heads in affirmation.   
  
Yes, excellent idea, but where could we amass an army so quickly?  
  
Come, come. Let us not trivialize where unnecessary, Palpatine nipped anxiety in the bud with his casual phrasing. I have a number of troops sufficient to relay our needs at this time, and I suspect many of you do as well, Palpatine grinned knowingly.   
  
His pleasure however, was surprisingly interrupted by a brooding indivdual who was obviously not impressed with the Senator's dismissal of details. I was under the impression that Naboo was a peaceful planet. Eyes widened at the daring of the new senator from Tippor.   
  
That we are, young sir, but we're not stupid. He made a mental note to share a word with this man, but deliberately made no effort to clarify where his troops might be coming from- for they were not Nubian. To distract from further inquiry, he continued. And I can call up a number of people right at this minute who would be willing to donate a number of legions to our cause, he added, diverting a weight of guilt upon their own selfish whims. I imagine great men such as yourselves should not have any trouble surrendering a portion of your independent armies, after all, we are in a time of great peace.  
  
You're absolutely right. We must pull together our resources. Private militias are just not equipped to lead a campaign in such a magnitude, Bram of Plaek noted from across the table. A supporter of Senator Palpatine more than the OASR, Bram stressed the importance of unifying a militia to protect against threats like these in the future.  
  
Bactid of Uragat agreed. Replacing slaves with clones is obviously an illegal act, and this is the only way to ensure it doesn't happen. Even those who had once been against enforcing the anti-slavery laws due to their own self interest, knew there was too much standing against them ethically to support Bonadan and therefore silenced their antagonism. Even Bonadan's representative, Din, was unable to defend his cause due to his absence.   
  
Thus, Bactid continued unrefuted. Bram is right. We need an interstellar unified army. Membership in the Republic has extended too far into the galaxy for us to rely solely on the Jedi to preserve peace.  
  
Obviously they haven't done much of job so far, a lone voice brooded from the back, referring to the holovised riot that took place at the clinic.  
  
A hushed silence reeked from the chamber at the accusation implied against the Jedi Order, but eventually a consensus began with gentle nods and worked its way up to a somber agreement. They would reinstate the Army.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Coruscant  
Chancellor Palpatine's Private Offices  
++++++++++  
  
  
Senator Mon Mothma, Palpatine sang from the other end of the visual link. I would like to take you up on your offer to support our cause.  
  
Mon Mothma was serious taken aback for she had left numerous messages as to availability, all of which had been rather rudely blown off. Eager to help but wary of the strange call, she listened closely.   
  
The conversation ended as he suspected. Although she didn't make any promises, she would do anything to abolish slavery, and playing this as his trump card, it didn't even matter what the request was, or how it would benefit him in the long run. In fact, she might end up doing all the work for him.  
  
Lowering the comscreen, he turned back to his compatriots who busied themselves with the draft the Senate expected to receive tomorrow.   
  
Who will be required to participate? They'll want to know how much its going to cost them. The advisor drilled Palpatine, but the answers were handled with ease.   
Volunteer basis only, but we will suggest a number of 100 battalions from larger systems.   
  
Palpatine felt he should be involved in drafting the proposal himself, since he would ultimately be in control of the newly forming militia. Thus, he had called in two of his most trusted advisors and began brainstorming what exactly they would be needing.  
  
They are also going to want to know how you plan on handling the army once it gets there. You can't demolish the entire planet.  
  
I could, but I won't. Not now, anyway. I have my plans. The evasive response remained unclassified, and they dared not press him, though his thoughts drifted off to Mandalor.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar, Bonadan  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
The second they entered the clinic, Qui-Gon was contacting the Jedi Council. What do you want us to do?  
  
Mace Windu was direct. Learn who is working with Governor M'ztka. They cannot be allowed to proceed. Second, find who met with the Republic representatives. Perhaps we can still bargain with them.  
  
Qui-Gon bowed from his seated position. We will do all we can. The link cut off foregoing the traditional closing statement.  
  
Who has that kind of technology? Qui-Gon sprung out of the seat and paced the clinic determined to find the source of this preposterous idea. M'ztka wouldn't climb out on a limb like this if he wasn't sure there would be a net to catch him.  
  
I can assume that's the reason they wanted Healer Thaum and Elia's blood, Ruebyn surmised, lifting her hands as if it were the most obvious solution that had evaded them.   
  
Shaking off the prospect of being cloned and enslaved, Elia distracted herself with Kiana's new treasure. Where did you get that?  
  
Evading eye contact she cheerily noted, From Aklina, as if she won it for some act of refined chivalry.   
  
Let me see that, the older healer commanded, nearly snatching it out of her hands to examine it more closely. The scent touched something in her, but she couldn't quite place it.   
  
Qui-Gon looked down at the healer as she twirled the plant in her hands. You are certain you're healing capabilities are genetic and not acquired? Qui-Gon asked Elia rubbing his chin wistfully.   
  
Yes, unfortunately. She remembered him asking the same question just days ago and handed the plant back to Kiana.   
  
Alright, where is this place? Obi-Wan hunched over Thaum and Tetre's shoulders as they scanned multiple links for Tlaska's corporate headquarters.   
  
After they had left for Aklina, Tetre had cross-referenced the CSA list with the bio-engineering companies, narrowing their search to a handful of companies.  
  
Deducting from the facts at hand, Qui-Gon confirmed the following information. We know with a fair amount of certainty that whomever commissioned this bounty hunter, Anisse Nobel, would have had to have been in the bio-egineering industry to make use of the blood. Correct? He looked to Ruebyn for a response, and she nodded. We also know that Thaum and Elia's blood are unique to others in that it contains a self-healing gene. Yesterday, he went on, Kiltma informed us that they had met with a representative of Tlaska that was interested in taking advantage of the Chancellor's proposal to take on convict labor in exchange for Senatorial seats, but she didn't give her name. What are the chances of that person being one and the same? Qui-Gon thought aloud.   
  
I suppose it's worth a shot, Li'sarrow encouraged his train of thought, eager to resolve all they could before their departure in two days.  
  
Where is this place again? Qui-Gon looked to Tetre who swiveled around to answer.  
  
Dvorak, Mandalor.  
  
Then that's it. Can you arrange a transport? Obi-Wan was driven and whipped about to gather up the last of their things.  
  
In the meantime, batten down this place, Qui-Gon instructed examining a list of hierarchy within the Corporate Sector. There's likely to be more trouble and another media onslaught. We want you out of here as soon as possible, he looked to Li'sarrow to ensure this, for he knew the others were too invested in the Simmian's plight to surrender without a fight.   
  
We'll return to the Temple for a short stay until recommissioned, Li'sarrow demanded compliance by her tone, but the healers seemed to mope at the prospect.  
Very well. Don't wait for us, Qui-Gon attempted to assure them that they would tie up any loose ends.   
  
But how do you know it's not an intergalactic company? Ruebyn stammered, fretting their departure. Maybe one of you should stay behind until we leave, she suggested, biting her nails.   
  
Qui-Gon looked over to Obi-Wan who met his gaze at overhearing the comment. There was a moment of hesitation before Meerpa stood up and poignantly pointed out the ridiculousness of the idea. Li'sarrow's here. You go. We can handle it here. She took Ruebyn's hands into her own and pressed them together affectionately as if to say, don't worry.   
  
  
  



	12. Death and Departure

Death and Departure 

++++++++++  
Dvorak, Mandalor  
++++++++++  
  
  
Shifting in the bucket seat of their transport, Obi-Wan closed his eyes with a meager attempt to meditate. He needed to remain focused, but felt incredibly distracted. Scrubbing his face, he hunched forward and rested his elbows on his knees.   
  
You sense it too, Qui-Gon's deep voice confirmed the spirited nagging that had been pestering him for days. Patting his padawan's back, Qui-Gon was lost in his own thoughts about how to address this mystery woman, should they find her. He had thought to ask about a surveillance camera, but Kiltma had said he specifically requested a private room. The only peculiarity they had to go on seemed to be a visual description. The female Mandalorian had dark brown hair, purplish eyes, and as Chlak put it, she was incredibly tall. But coming from Chlak, that could mean anything. They also mentioned a number of tattoos adorning her forehead, similar to Trafalgar's. Trying to imagine what that might appear like, Qui-Gon recalled Trafalgar's widow's peak and the arabesque design that met at the tip of the arches.   
  
Approaching Mandalor, the pilot announced, pulling the two Jedi from their thoughts. The trip was blessedly short two hours, and reaching Tlaska's main offices in Dvorak took a quarter of the time.   
  
Like the Governor's Palace on Bonadan, this high rise bloomed so high, it's tip was lost in the atmosphere. Wondering if all the offices were dedicated to Tlaska or shared, Qui-Gon paused momentarily before the list of suites. I don't think we're going to find anything that way, Obi-Wan paused a second for his master to agree, and followed him. With a rather conservative receiving hall, the two Jedi easily made their way to a reception desk.   
  
Suddenly sidetracked, Qui-Gon moved closer to examine a series of photographs lining the entrance. Following his lead, Obi-Wan scanned the photos. Most were older Mandalorian men forming the Board of Trustees, but the prime location was reserved for the President and owner of the company. His name, Leopold Trafalgar, was imprinted in gold beneath it. Above and below were two family portraits signifying succeeding generations.   
  
Qui-Gon waved over to his padawan. The first portrayed Leo as a young man with his parents and pet husky. The bottom intrigued them more, for it included an older Leo with wife, two children, and grandchildren. Immediately recognizing a teenage Trafalgar, the two Jedi exchanged looks upon sighting the brunette sitting next to him, both graced with facial tattoos. With no names beneath the photos, Qui-Gon wandered over to the woman at the front desk. It's a beautiful family photo.  
  
It's a family business, she returned cheerily, the cylindrical metal head ornament chiming a new age tune.   
  
I was wondering about the daughter though. I haven't seen many photos of her.  
  
You're not from here are you?  
  
Qui-Gon nodded his head no, while Obi-Wan inwardly rolled his eyes at pointless pleasantries. Qui-Gon's incessant politeness irritated him to the core, but he swallowed his frustration and folded his hands calmly in front of him.  
  
Fianat's always in the papers for one break threw or another. She's really turned Curel around, the receptionist chirped.   
  
Throwing his padawan a sideways glance, he bowed at the trim older woman. You've been very helpful.  
  
She blushed. You didn't need anything else?  
  
No, thank you. She watched them go just as they came.   
  
When they were outside, Obi-Wan was instantly contacting the clinic, leading them to a more quiet corner of the city street.  
  
This is Obi-Wan.   
  
Hey, Obi-Wan. This is Tetre. Found anything yet?  
  
Yes. I need you to look up Curel's main address.  
  
We also need to know what Curel does, Qui-Gon added, his back to the crowds of pedestrians that thronged the metropolitan sidewalk.  
  
I'll download the address onto your link. The company is a subsidiary of Tlaska, and the CEO is one Fianat Trafalgar. You think she might be the one who met with Kiltma?  
  
It's possible. What can you tell us about Curel? I've heard you mention it before.  
  
Yeah. They manufacture most of our lab equipment-  
  
Like centerfuges, Qui-Gon leaned towards the link.  
  
Yeah. They also just made big headlines for contracting with an intergalactic HMO for organic parts.  
  
So they are part of Tlaska's bioengineering division?   
  
  
  
Thanks alot.  
  
We'll be around for another couple days if you need anything else.  
  
Ending the transmission, Obi-Wan looked up to his master. Do you think they will go?  
  
Li'sarrow is there. She'll make sure they get away safely. Hands on his hips, Qui-Gon glanced up at the infinitely tall building, and Obi-Wan took comfort in his confidence, hiding away his own doubts.   
  
  
*****  
  
  
Although it had been little trouble obtaining a shuttle to Curel's headquarters, finding Fianat Trafalgar was another matter entirely. The two Jedi appeared sorely underdressed as creature's conducted their business to and from the massive skyscraper in weighty headpieces and robes reminiscent of medieval tapestries. Calligraphy adorned the walls in flowing ribbons, entertwined with finely tuned designs of swirls and half notes.   
  
A grand mural poised itself in the center of the far wall, flanked by two Corinthian columns. In it, two culturally distinct tribes battled ferociously in the monstrous receiving hall, a history in and of itself. Nearly fifty feet high its frightening and realistic expression left the weaker hanging back for fear the scene would jump to life.   
  
An armored Mandalorian hero battled a man in a raven robe mounted on a fiery beast. Painted spectators enjoyed the drama from a corner balcony, harping the players with amusement.  
  
Can I assume the Mandalorians don't look fondly on humans? Qui-Gon deducted from the rest of the artwork. Off to the left of the mural, a team of Mandalorians snagged the humans by the ankles, one by one, yanking them off the balcony and feeding them to a pack of wolves.  
  
Marching passed the imposing piece of artwork, they rounded the corner to the lift, where they found a suite directory. Easy enough, Obi-Wan commented as they flew up to the highest levels, but Qui-Gon did not share his sentiment. Let's not be so quick, padawan. She may not even be here.   
  
Seconds later they were emptied to a spherical hall lit from a diamond shaped skylight whose light filtered down into varying echelons of gleaming white and gold floors. Following the arrows, they entered another room with a high vaulted ceiling that left vague voices echoing from unseen corners.  
  
Can I help you? a man called to their attention from behind a broad counter, strategically located to prevent unwanted wanderers, like them, from proceeding into the inner offices.  
  
Is this where we can reach Fianat Trafalgar? the older Jedi inquired politely.   
  
This is her office, yes, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Do you have an appointment?  
  
Lowering his voice, Qui-Gon replied as unthreatening as possible. Forgive us for coming in unannounced, but we need to speak with Fianat Trafalgar. He instantly felt pairs of eyes drill his back. A few Mandalorian businessmen shifted in their seats out in the waiting room, suddenly very interested in the foreigners.  
  
May I ask to what this is regarding? Although Qui-Gon was reluctant to reveal what had truly drawn their visit, he did not want to unfeather this man any more than necessary, so explained they were concerned about a particular product manufactured by Curel. A deep breath of air seemed to mitigate his irritation, but it wasn't until he confirmed that they were Jedi that he moved behind the enclosure.   
  
Glancing around at the number of people in the waiting room, Obi-Wan surmised it might be a long wait. Avoiding the nasty looks from the others waiting, the two Jedi crossed the spacious room and found their way to the far corner of a long wide bench with red velvety pillows and gold tassels. Similar to downstairs, the wall coverings were painted with stylized writing and detailed motifs. While the receptionist's headpiece jingled in the other room, Obi-Wan sighed and kicked his heal onto his knee. Do you think she'll see us?  
  
It's hard to tell, but I sense a great deal of fear emanating from this room.  
  
Obi-Wan agreed. I wonder what it is she's hiding.  
  
We don't know she's hiding anything, yet. It's best to give her a chance to be honest first. Obi-Wan's look implied there was little doubt she was hiding something, for all the pieces they had collected thus far, pointed directly to her.  
  
*  
  
Who is here?! Fianat pressed her hands against the sides of her face, and then lightly swiped at the moisture that beaded across her brow. Butterflies fluttered in her gut; no one expected this. Alright, tell them I'll be there in a minute, she waved him off, then made a call.   
  
Although it was difficult in her fitted skirt, she knelt on the holopad, and waited for Lord Sidious to answer.   
  
My Lord, Jedi are here. She looked up for answers.  
  
Where? On Mandalor?  
  
She nodded, swallowing drily.  
  
What do they want?  
  
I haven't seen them yet. Should I send them away?  
  
No, you don't want to draw attention. Invite them in, but be vague. Tell them to contact your father if they get too meddlesome. Report when they leave.  
  
Yes, sire. Fanning herself, she stood, slimming down her long sheath skirt. Yanking at her Mandarin collar, she spread back her shoulders and went to face them.  
  
  
*  
  
To their surprise, the jingling receptionist escorted them into a grand office in a matter of minutes.   
  
Welcome to Curel. My name is Fianat Trafalgar, and you are... The woman held out her hand confidently, sizing up the two men that walked through the door.   
  
I am Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my apprentice Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. They tapped the top of her hand politely, noticing it tremble. Stealing a sideways glance at one another, they confirmed the weblike markings dancing over her brow. She was the one.  
  
She smiled seductively over her pounding heart. Let's sit, she suggested.   
Pointing to a intimate sitting area off to the left, she lead them to a flaming orange couch, herself sitting in its single counterpart.   
  
Lovely flowers, Qui-Gon immediately noticed the fragrant bird of paradise decorating the low coffee table between them.  
  
Inhaling a deep breath of air, she crossed her legs and agreed. My favorite.  
Not a common variety.  
  
She paused for a moment. No, its not, surprised that he would notice such. So what brings you to Curel?  
  
We are in concern of a particular product called a centrefuge.  
  
We manufacture many items for the health care industry. A centrefuge is a product used to take blood samples on patients. It extracts and separates blood into separate compartments so the analyst can run it through the computer.  
  
Who do you sell these products to?   
  
Labs, clinics, hospitals. Why do you ask?   
  
He didn't answer her question, but barraged her with another. We'd like to know what your procedure is for tracking stolen goods.  
  
Her eye brows bound upwards and her chin slightly jutted. I haven't been informed of any recent thefts. What are you getting at? She cleared her throat, and shifted in her seat irritably.  
  
We've encountered the use of a centrefuge as a weapon of sorts. Qui-Gon noticed her latch her hands on her knee to keep from bouncing it up and down. An attack has occurred in which a centrefuge was used to extract a blood sample from the victim. We also know there have been a number of other systems in which centrefuges have been used to collect random blood samples for genetic engineering.  
  
A businesswoman by nature, her contrived response was vague. I've heard of such. Curel manufactures products for the health care industry; unfortunately, we are not responsible for how the products are used once sold.  
  
Obi-Wan cut in here, unwilling to allow her time to think. Have you not just contracted with a major HMO for the production of organic material?  
  
  
  
So you are in bio-engineering industry?   
  
A leader I might say. She sat up taller defying his verbal attack.   
  
Have you been contacted by Bonadan to produce slave labor using cloning technology?   
  
Exhaling, she leaned back into the chair. Is that what this is about? she folded her hands before her delicately. You think Curel supports M'ztka's little science experiment? she raised her eyebrows and began the spiel that won over many of her investors. Cloning is a controversial topic, but under stringent limitations, it can have incredible benefits. For example, those who need organ transplants, can now be assured a compatible organ will be available to them.  
  
Uninterested in this aspect of her company, Qui-Gon jumped on the opportunity to ask to M'ztka. So you are not in support of M'ztka, even though you run a majority of your business on Bonadan?  
  
Unsure of how to respond, she merely glanced back and forth at the two of them, and sidled up back against her chair.   
  
Understanding she was not quite comfortable responding to this question, he cut to the point. We have been informed that someone from Tlaska met privately with negotiators on Bonadan about the Chancellor's proposal.  
  
Clicking her teeth together, she admitted to having met with them. Obi-Wan almost cracked a smile, perhaps they would be able to bargain with her. The Chancellor is still willing to bargain now, he said in all seriousness, but the Senate is planning something more serious.  
  
She nodded, twisting her hands in her lap, letting a few stray hairs fall forward into her face. Hunching up her shoulders, she appeared on the edge of tears, fishing a hankie out of her pocket. I didn't know it was this serious. I'll have to speak with my father, she whimpered.   
  
Very well, Qui-Gon regarded her quietly. When can you let us know?  
In a couple of days, I suppose.  
  
Obi-Wan said standing up, We'll be back tomorrow. We'll show ourselves out.  
  
Thank you for your time, Qui-Gon followed out his padawan avoiding sympathetic looks in her direction. They knew all they needed now.   
  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Later...  
++++++++++  
  
  
What do you think? Obi-Wan could barely wait to ask before they were out of the building.   
  
I am not particularly inclined to trust her, even if she did own up to meeting Kiltma and Chlak.  
  
What do you think her father will say to all this?  
  
I hope he still wants to bargain.  
  
After finding a place to stay for the evening, they agreed that more investigation was necessary. If they just made this deal with a Health Maintenance Organization, and the industry just opened up, it's likely they've been cloning tissue illegally for an extended period of time.  
  
I think we should take a look at their labs.  
  
Or speak to someone who has access.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
Clinic  
++++++++++  
  
  
I was hoping you wouldn't be asleep yet. All packed? Thaum plopped down beside his friend on the bed. Scooting to the corner, Elia continued staring up through the ceiling, trying to place the foreboding sensation that had plagued her all day.  
  
I'm not going.  
  
Sighing, he hitched his head onto his arm and rolled over to face her. Elia, you are my dearest friend, but it's over. Li'sarrow's decommissioning us. That's it; it's not negotiable.  
  
How could she pull us now? What's she thinking? Elia moped dramatically.  
His jaw dropped open. She's thinking about our safety.  
  
What about the Simmians' safety, Thaum? Elia popped up into a sitting position and hunched over into a diamond shaped stretch. Don't you feel guilty for abandoning them?  
  
They don't even want us anymore! Especially not after Qui-Gon declined M'ztka's offer at freedom.  
  
Don't blame him for this. There was no way we could accept.  
  
We? What makes you think you are a deciding factor in this situation? He smashed his hands against his head in frustration. WE- ARE-POWERLESS, Elia. If you didn't already notice. This is not our fight anymore.  
  
Squinting down upon him with an icy gaze, she snapped back, If you are not going to help, then get out!  
  
His look softened. Alright. I'm sorry. He scrubbed her back affectionately, But you've got to find a way to resolve yourself to this.  
  
With sagging head, she whimpered. I wish he were dead.  
  
  
  
What do you mean, who?! M'ztka. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than killing that pig of a man, she grunted through clenched teeth.  
  
That's the Dark Side commanding you. You shouldn't entertain such thoughts, he admonished her, sitting back against the headboard to listen more carefully.   
  
She was very still and calm for a moment. Do you think that's what made me capable of killing those men back in the Nimitz? The Dark Side working in me?   
  
he exhaled softly, squeezing her shoulders. You did what you had to do.  
  
Everybody keeps saying that! she exploded again, her hands flew out as she banged her right against the wall. I did what I had to do? Wouldn't you have done the same? She craned her neck back to see him, sucking on her scratched knuckles. Am I the only one who sees that I was acting in the name of humanity? Or am I just a butcher? Yeah, send out Elia, she'll kill anything. Why am I the only one who would have done that? What makes me different from everyone else?  
  
That's not it at all. Li'sarrow trusts you, he leaned back away from her. Too bad she doesn't know you like I do, he grinned.   
  
Elia mirrored back a ridiculous placating smile. As if forgetting her rage altogether, she fell back into her friend's shoulder, picking at her nails. I'm serious, Thaum. She turned to look up in his eyes. If he were dead, the SImmians would have to refuse. The deal would be off.  
  
Speechless, he met her gaze with a roll of the eyes. You can't be serious. This is their only hope, and you want to ruin that?  
  
Glancing away, she ran her fingers through her hair. Then people must be swayed to be patient for another option.  
  
They can't! He flung up his free arm. What reason do they have to believe in the Republic? They've never cared about their freedom before, and now that freedom is at hand, we ask them to decline? Shoving her off, he stood up to express the futility of the compromise. Don't you even want them to have the chance of freedom in this lifetime?  
  
Of course, I do, but what of the thousands of clones that will inherit their squalor? It's like living centuries of suffering over and over.  
  
his palms fanned out with finality. I know that cloning is wrong. It is completely unacceptable, but so is the condition under which these people live. This is the first chance of hope in a millennium, Elia. How can we ask them to refuse? Give them their freedom, then ask the Senate to deal with the cloning.   
  
And what if it were you? And by the way, it very well could be you, she referred to his stolen blood wanted for its unique DNA, and he froze. No. I will not support this kind of cloning in any way, shape, or form, she opposed him flatly.  
  
Fine. But we are leaving soon, and Li'sarrow will expect to see you on that transport, he stormed out.   
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Blavnor, Mandalor  
Trafalgar Family Estate  
++++++++++  
  
  
Fianat entered the familiar hall whispering away to herself on how she should explain this incident with her father. Dots of red, green, azul, and violet danced over her body as she crossed the marbled entrance. The stone mansion received its guest with cold reserve and the inlaid jewels blinked their timeless eyes as she passed.   
  
The lift doors folded back and Fianat was spit out, ready or not. Knocking on the door to her father's favorite study, a voice bid her enter, yet behind the broad onyx desk was not her father, but Trafalgar; he seemed to have been waiting for her.  
  
I heard you had a little run with a couple Jedi today, he chewed on a cigar through the words.   
  
Get your filthy boots off his desk. It's not yours yet, she snapped, her hands instantly finding their way to her hips.  
  
Whipping his legs down on the ground, he hunched low over the shiny black surface as if prowling. Don't change the subject, he hissed. What did you tell them?  
She swaggered towards him slowly. I told them you were the one who contracted with M'ztka to revert slaves to clones.  
  
Leaning back in the squeaky leather chair, he smiled. I knew you wouldn't betray Tlaska, Sis. You can't wait to get your greedy little hands on it.  
  
Where's father? she demanded to know, nervously plucking out the dead leaves of her favorite plant on his desk.  
  
Down the hall. When she came closer, he sprang out of the chair and grabbed her by the arm. You better be lying.  
  
A sudden intake of air left her lightheaded, but she held his gaze. You could be taken out of the picture just like that, he whispered.  
  
Sneering down as his white knuckles, she glanced over her shoulder to one of the guards that had followed her up, who, as if on cue, stepped out of the shadows and revealed himself. Take your filthy fucking hands off me, you brute.  
  
Letting her go, he spread his arms and yawned. It's so easy to ruffle your feathers these days.  
  
Tossing the shards of the pruned plant into the nearest waste basket, she clapped her hands clean and unzipped her slim fitting jacket. I guess he didn't tell you anything, or you wouldn't be worried, she surmised.  
  
Who's worried? he bantered back.   
  
When Leopold finally came in, she greeted him stiffly, though he returned the coldness with a warm embrace. Rough day, dear? His robes shuffled around his wide girth as she motioned for the watchful maid to bring him a chair.   
  
she controlled her shaking by sitting on the edge of his desk.  
  
Well, what happened? the voice roared harsher than expected causing the young woman to jump.  
  
They wanted to know if we were helping M'ztka clone slaves.  
  
He rubbed his chin pensively.  
  
They also wanted to know if we were still willing to deal.  
  
his hands clapped together, and he grinned openly. This is exactly what we were hoping for.  
  
Then we're going to deal?! Yesterday you made a fool of me, saying the Chancellor's proposal was ridiculous.  
  
Not intentionally dear- he waved her off.  
  
It's just so easy, Trafalgar bantered, plopping back down in his father's chair and swinging his legs back and forth. She snarled in his direction, disgusted.  
  
We'll be under much better terms with this new agreement. We'll placate them, just like you said. When do they want to meet?  
  
  
  
Leo frowned, concerned Sidious would not be ready to act in time, but decided to let him worry about that. Is that all?  
  
She breathed out heavily. Their first question didn't have much to do with this, though. Just some babble about human blood being picked up off the black market.  
I knew there was a catch. You idiot! her brother was the first to blurt it out. Of all things, why that? It could lead them directly to the clone armies, and expose our contact.  
  
The Sith is the one who demanded I get the sample in the first place! she shouted back, arms flying up in the air. And he was playing us both at the same time. Shaking her head in frustration, she settled back into an agitated pose, a rancid distaste growing in the back of her mouth.  
  
Now that you have the blood sample you need, her father began, where is it? We have to make sure it's completely secure, or it could lead the Jedi to the army.  
  
It's fine, she waved him off testily. I've got it locked away below floors. She referred to Wek's labs.  
  
Well, I'm glad you called Sidious when you did, her father added. It's best to keep our bases covered until all is secured.  
  
So what's the game plan? Trafalgar now insisted in being kept in the  
loop, though last week, he couldn't have cared less.  
  
Your brother will accompany you tomorrow to make a deal. Reluctantly, she nodded. That should keep suspicion away. You, he pointed at his son, just need to make sure they leave Mandalor immediately after the deal.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Clinic  
Bonadan  
++++++++++  
  
  
Soft rapping beckoned each from their sleep in the still hours before dawn. Wake up! Ruebyn cried in a thick whispers, scurrying from door to door. Elia overheard a groggy Meerpa complain and throw something heavy, like a boot, against the wall. Stumbling into their pants, and shuffling through boxes for a clean tunic, they hurried down the hall anticipating the worst. The first to be ready, Tetre burst through the door that sealed off their private quarters, and fell into a madhouse of agitated Simmians. Both patient resident rooms were chock full of families, whose wide eyes instantly looked to the healers as they pressed their way into the crowd.   
  
As if doused in freezing water, Amelia was now fully awake, forgetting to breathe in the shock. Pushed back inside the hall by Ruebyn, the healers teetered over each other like a precarious structure of dominoes, and rerouted themselves through the kitchen door and into the safety of the common area. Confirming one more time that all doors to the common area were bolted, Ruebyn directed the healers to sit down.   
  
Alright, what's going on? Meerpa untangled the knots in her hair and hitched a leg over the side of the couch.   
  
Where's Li'sarrow?  
  
Was there an accident?  
  
They're going to think we've incited a riot!   
  
The crew barraged her with anxious questions, but she received them with little more than a slow pacing and subtle twisting of the hands. Master Li'sarrow's gone to speak with the governor.  
  
Why are they all here?  
  
Where are all the guards that came with M'Li'sarrow?  
  
Ruebyn tried to explain through the interruptions. As far as we can tell, they've begun a selection process-  
  
  
  
God dammit, that lying son of bitch! Meerpa was pacing the floor in seconds. So only certain slaves will be released?  
  
Though flustered, Ruebyn still had time to admonish her subordinate. We don't really know what's going on over there. That's why Li'sarrow's gone.  
  
If no one knows anything, they why are they all here?  
  
Like I said, we're not sure-  
  
Well someone better go out there and ask them. Before Ruebyn had the chance to advise them for the better, Meerpa, Elia, and Thaum were out the door. No! We are leaving on the next transport! Ruebyn screamed, but her words were drown in their ambition.  
  
Pushing her way through the familiar faces from Lepkaum, Elia clutched onto Thaum as they weaved their way into the crowd. Even before she realized what was happening, Elia was snagged by Marta, a Simmian she had dealt with frequently in the past. With a baby slung over her hip and a toddler dangling from her free arm, a ragged and desperate Marta attempted to explain what happened. Healer, they have begun the selection.  
  
Thaum jumped in, listening intently. What do you mean selection? M'ztka said all slaves will be given freedom.  
  
She nodded her head breathlessly. They came to our residence but drew blood from some. If they took your blood, they gave you a shot. They said it dismantles the tracking device. But they are not accepting children, so, I avoided the medroids and came here.  
  
Healer Elia turned her attention back to Marta. But why come here?  
  
What? Who came? Thaum tried to clarify, butting in front of Elia.   
  
The medroids came to every cell. People were fighting, and many were shot by the guards, her words diminished into acid tears.   
  
We've got to get over there! Thaum lurched above the crowd, but Tetre appeared beside him, quick to control his enthusiasm.   
  
Not yet. Not until Li'sarrow gets back, he said, gripping him by the shoulder as if to physically restrain him.   
  
Well contact her, and tell her we're going. They could be hurt, Thaum was feverish with eagerness, and grabbed the Simmian next to him with useless demands for clarification.  
  
Elia, listen to this. He reached out for her, but she had wandered further into the crowd of SImmians.   
*  
In the meantime, Elia had pulled Marta along behind her until they reached a more private nook. Frantic, the Simmian begged the Healer command her what to do. Do I go back? No one knows anything.  
  
What time do you have to report?  
  
I usually report at the first detail which begins at 4:00 am.  
  
Be there.  
  
What?! How is that possible? That's in half an hour? Not only that, but the other slaves, they're are saying anyone who goes in will be killed.  
  
Something tells me you've got to go, Elia clutched Marta's shoulders with vicious claws and shook her in anger. You know what M'ztka can do!   
  
Take your hands off me, Marta responded fiercely. I'm not going. Nobody's going, so you may as well get that idea out of your head.  
  
That's right. We're not leaving, someone interrupted, barging between them, but another added her own feelings. The Benzoic Mechanism was dismantled after the Massacre in the Valdez District anyway. They have no power over us now.  
  
Do you really think they'd do that? The discussion had drawn the interest of many now, and Elia was swept up in the current. Dismantling the Benzoic Mechanism was merely a political ploy to mitigate the opposition.  
  
We must resist, the Simmian man encouraged to any who would listen. M'ztka cannot be allowed to go back on his word.   
  
Elia wiped at her brow at the rebellious talk. Although she knew she shouldn't, she was almost inclined to encourage them, but refrained for fear of the consequences. She looked at the chronometer. 3:45am. The next fifteen minutes would would be revealing. How would the companies respond?   
  
Wandering away, she overheard a statement that made her glad she left the conversation when she did:  
  
  
Let the Healers lead us. They have the support of the Senate.   
  
  
These words echoed in her psyche as she vanished back into the crowd. How was she ever to own up to that? There was no support. Where did the truth lie? At what moment did it all become too extreme for her to handle? When did it begin its transformation into unwitting deception?  
  
Setting these thoughts aside, she pinched at her boatneck collar in the rising heat and refocused. It was critical they prepare for the worst. It was impossible to get back into the common area from inside the clinic, so she squeezed herself through the front door and onto the crowded porch. From the elevated position, she saw thousands of Simmians stretching out far into the moor. Some seemed to barely have the strength to stand, while others shook their fists in the air angrily. Leaning over the railing, she prayed someone would come along to lead the people from the slavery, but she was no Moses.   
  
The guards Master Li'sarrow had come with, deliberately stayed out the Simmian's path. Although they did carry weapons, and brandished them in a threatening manner, the only militant action they made was to surround the hovertrucks and air support that had been moved to a safe distance out on the moors, well passed the greenhouse.   
  
Slipping down the steps, she rounded the building and knocked on the kitchen. Kiana opened the door immediately. When she got back inside, the whole crew fidgeted over more alarming news.   
  
I've attempted to contact the Council, but I can't get through. Tetre explained with a strained calmness, running his hands through his hair.  
  
Let me try. Thaum hastily swiveled into the consul chair and typed in a number of commands, but found each of them unresponding. I don't understand this. How could there be a communication block off world and to Walkar? They don't run on the same satellite links.  
  
Both must be out, Meerpa suggested. Try someplace further. Aklina or Melbanka.  
  
Again another chain of quick taps yielded little response. Slowly but surely the morbid thought settled in. If they could not contact Coruscant, the Senate nor the Council would have any way of knowing how desperate the situation was becoming, and Li'sarrow might be stuck here.   
  
  
Impatient, a raucous began to grow just beyond the walls, and Ruebyn demanded they gather up their things and board the shuttle immediately. They would not be rerouted to the spaceport, but would take off right here in the moor. Any protests were instantly put down, for they could hardly deny that the situation was well out of their control.   
  
  
No one needed to announce it was 4:00am, for shrill screams pierced the air in a cacaphonic symphony as a group of Li'sarrow's guards broke in through the kitchen shouting, That's it! We've got to go now! The Gammoreans are here for the slaves.  
  
A second later, the bolted door burst open and Simmians toppled inside, scrambling for refuge. Like a wave of flood waters, they poured in, crushing limb with limb in their efforts to escape the chaos. A second more, and there were welling in from the resident hallway.   
  
Physically taking hold of Kiana and Meerpa, the guards tossed them towards the kitchen where an assembly line had formed to protect the healers on the way to the shuttle, for by now the Simmians had swarmed that exit as well.   
  
  
In one last effort, Marta had sought out Elia and flung herself in her arms. Healer, they are coming for us, Marta pulled her aside, clutching tightly on her arm. This armageddon they spoke of is coming to fruition. Don't let us suffer. Don't let my children suffer. Give me the poison. Marta's drooping eyes looked heavenward at the plea, but Elia's own faith was suspended.   
  
She wanted to believe the Council would do something to stop this even as the were being plucked out the clinic. The Senate doesn't want the situation to escalate, she rationalized. The investors will force them to protect their goods. The people of the Republic won't allow this- not when they know about what's happening here. But at this point, it was hopeless, and there was little for which to console Marta.  
  
I can't do it.  
  
You didn't mind doing it two months ago, so redeem yourself now, human girl. Give me the poison. Marta pushed forward into Elia's face, but she merely glared back.   
  
No, I'll not. And it wasn't like that. Those people were dying. They were already dead. Simmians pushed and tripped in the room, and Elia sensed that many were hurt in the confusion.  
  
We know what you did with the men. So we too are dying. Why prolong our suffering? We are dying-  
  
-At my hands?! she finished her sentence, ignoring Ruebyn's commands.  
At your hands either way. She waited for the healer to act, but she seemed frozen in an alternate universe.   
  
  
  
  
A guard picked her up by the shoulders and whisked her out, tripping along with him, but she didn't resist. Numbed by Marta's accusations and the fear that boiled over from the Simmians, she let herself be dragged towards the convoy- until the fear began to fill her as well. Like an infectious disease, the hatred crept into her veins and she could only see one image. M'ztka. He was to blame for all of this. Then with that hatred, her serpentine limbs went soft, and she slithered her way from the guard's grasp.   
  
And the Simmians, lost and disoriented, could think to do nothing but run. Many ran off into the Moors, but others flocked to the clinic and ultimately to their deaths. The Gammoreans were merciless with their weapons, firing indiscriminately into the masses.  
  
Everything moved so quickly in those next few seconds. The engines fired up, and the ramp lifted. The remaining guards dispersed in the hover trucks, and with a whirl of dirt, it was if they had never been.  
  
Dashing to the greenhouse, Elia hid behind the Selve's skin and closed her eyes. Hatred for M'ztka bubbled within even as the greenhouse came shattering in around her from stray blaster fire. But seconds later, a huge flash colored night, day, and the glass house disintegrated to splinters.   
  
The explosion threw her to the back of the house, the soft leathery pelt a shield against the glass shrapnel. For a moment, she didn't move, and tried to assess what had just happened. The explosion came from the clinic; the Simmians! Digging herself out of a flower bed, she climbed from under the pelt shakily. The steel frame exposed, she looked back to where there should have been the clinic.   
  
It was as if a giant had ripped off the roof of the building, exposing the insides like a doll house. Elia clapped her boot against a steel beam, the glass bouncing off as she peered straight into the kitchen and common area. Gutted, burnt bodies lie in scattered heaps next to plaster chunks.   
  
Seconds later, another flash and horrible rumble broke free as earth and bodies were chucked into the air in front of the clinic. But the source of the sound did not come from the ground, it came from the air. Glancing up into the low sky, she witnessed the last of healer transports fade into the cloud cover.   
  
Stunned with understanding, she wavered a moment before a barrage of blaster fire woke her from the shock. Scrambling through the mess as Gammoreans marched towards the clinic, a wide eyed healer escaped into the cover of the moor, even as the Selves ran in to scavenge.   
  
  
  
  



	13. Journey to the Underworld

Journey to the Underworld 

++++++++++  
Walkar  
Governor's Palace  
++++++++++  
  
  
The Simmians demand it, Jedi. Look outside. Bonadan's Governor raised the window shield from a control panel in his armchair. Down in the darkness, throngs of Simmians and Bondani alike crowded Walkar's main square threatening to riot.  
  
Retaining the composure of her voice, Li'sarrow responded as evenly as possible. I do not believe they are fully aware of their options, or of the long term ramifications.  
  
They've been informed alright and we must bend to the people... Governor M'ztka chuckled at the irony.   
  
All they had to do was the original tissue samples and Mandalor would do the rest. Likewise, if negotiations remained as is, the Senate would have to lift the slavery tax because technically, clones are not slaves. Threats of secession had kept the Senate at bay thus far and the alliance with Mandalor prevented interstellar military advancement without declaring outright war, or that was how Trafalgar had so keenly put it. The Governor couldn't be more satisfied with the outcome.  
  
  
The representative from the Republic, Kiltma, now chimed in, The Senate will never agree to this. Perhaps their is another, more profitable solution.  
  
I don't think so. The people demand their freedom, the Governor added sarcastically, spreading his raven winged robe across the window.   
  
Then we've done all we can, Chlak admitted and waited patiently for his counterpart.   
  
Yes, you've done all you can, the governor agreed watching them leave as they nodded their heads in disappointment and mumbled their regrets.  
  
After a few moments, M'ztka turned back around to look below and finally asked, Aren't you leaving as well?  
  
Li'sarrow pressed her lips together firmly and disappeared.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Coruscant  
Palpatine's Private Quarters  
++++++++++  
  
  
They are in a complete state of anarchy, Senator Palpatine. Governor M'ztka is no longer able to maintain control of his planet. The slaves are revolting and there is nothing he can do.   
  
You have done well, Kiltma. The investors will have no choice but to acquiesce- to save what little they have left. I'll take care of the rest.  
  
We are on our way back to Coruscant now.  
  
Cutting him off, he made other plans. C3RX, get me Mandalor. While the droid opened the holo, Palpatine smirked to himself at the ease of such manipulation. The cards had been dealt in his favor since the beginning; it was just a matter of convincing people that what you want is what they want as well.   
  
The well dressed Mandalorian spirited before him. I have been waiting for your call.  
  
Good. It's time, Leo.  
  
  
++++++++++  
Walkar  
Governor's Palace  
++++++++++  
  
  
She hugged the cold dagger to her breast, no longer bothering to conceal it for Walkar looked in a state of war. A hired team of Gammorean soldiers peppered the streets as random Bondani scrambled about the chaos. Fires had demolished a great deal of downtown, and shop windows were busted out, an open invitation to looters. All the Simmians were gone, or at least off the streets, and she didn't explore what might have become to the rest of them that didn't reach the clinic. However, none of this distracted her from her purpose.   
  
Barging into the Governor's Palace proved simple, for a large hole gaped open in the entrance. Treading over the crackling glass, she ignored the shattered skylight swaying precariously from metallic threads, and moved to the lifts, prepared to take the stairs if necessary. Finding them empty and abandoned, though still in working order, she sailed up the hundred floors to his office.   
  
Although logic told her the governor had long since fled, a feeling guided her to the bowels of his office.  
  
While the familiar hallway showed none of the signs of war that downstairs displayed, she remained cautious nonetheless and unsheathed her dagger from her boot.   
  
As if on cue, a stampede approached from around the corner. Most likely Gammoreans, she surmised, slipping into one of the smaller offices as the tremor rumbled passed. Peeking down the hall behind them, she noticed three bulging sacks bouncing off their backs, clucking with small electronic equipment swiped from the abandoned rooms. Looters.  
  
  
Moving on, she stepped boldly into the Governor's office, uncertain if he would even be there. Working her way through the old conference room, she faced the round table overcome with an intense sensation. Li'sarrow had been here recently; she could almost smell her in the room. Slightly taken aback, she paused as a feeling of danger overtook her.   
  
  
Don't go in there. Don't give into the hatred, Amelia.   
  
  
Li'sarrow's voice took on an ethereal air.   
  
  
Slowly turning to the double doors that lead to M'ztka's private office, the healer took firm hold of the dagger, and kicked open the swinging doors.   
  
Swathed in the deep blue hues of the creature's den, she tiptoed inside. The electronic blinds spilt diagonal stripes of light upon the murky carpets, disoriented her momentarily. But it was a rustle of leaves that caused her to spin on her heal, and to her surprise, a well armed figure loomed in the doorway.   
  
Anisse Nobel held the strung crossbow out before her, and eased her way into the room. You wouldn't believe what they are willing to pay for you.  
  
Elia spun around, addressing her by her full name.   
  
How clever. We bounty hunters go to a great deal of trouble to conceal ourselves. Like a silvery cat, it was her habit to toy with her prey before the butchery.  
  
I'd extend a peace offer, but I know you wouldn't accept it. She alluded to the formal decline Qui-Gon made over the holo in response to M'ztka's offer. But why you refused baffled me because your fate would soon become theirs. She referred to cloning with an pretentious nonchalance.  
  
You want my blood.  
  
You have a particular gene Fianat Trafalgar is willing to pay a great deal for. The same gene that saved your friend, Thaum, the first time we met. How easy it is this time, when there are no Jedi to protect you... the bounty hunter smirked, eyeing her target closely even as she stepped nearer.   
  
Elia followed the woman's eyes, a blazing cerulean against the blues of this room. Subtly backing away, the healer's haunches burned, prepared to spring at a moment's notice. I'm here for M'ztka. Where is he? the words were exhaled in a hoarse whisper for fear of disturbing the precarious tension that strung itself taut between the two.  
  
Anisse stretched taller, but did not lower her weapon. He's there. Why don't you take a looksie?   
  
As if understanding what she meant, Elia dared dart into the dark recesses of the room only to find M'ztka lazily slumped behind his desk, the steel feathered end of an arrow protruding as if a black bud had sprouted from his breast bone.   
  
Understanding hit her all at once. She was not meant to kill M'ztka, but was drawn here for another reason.   
  
She turned to face the attacker, who had now slithered closer. You've stolen what was to be -my- honor, huntress. I must sacrifice something else in it's stead, Elia remarked, cocking her head to the side, with a distant yet vengeful expression.   
  
  
Unfettered, the healer's antagonist plucked at the trigger, a barbed arrow sailing across the room, but even before Elia could gasp in surprise, the arrow pierced through her breast. Sucking in the acrid oxygen, Elia dipped to the left, and swaggered slightly, justifying to herself that this was to be the sacrifice.   
  
Still clinging to the dagger and choking on her own blood, she yanked at the bloody corsage embedded in her shoulder. Blacking out, she gagged on the pain as she slumped to the floor. Summoning upon the Force for reconciliation, she winced as the threads of life struggled to reconstruct themselves.  
  
Anisse, stringing her bow for another shot, raised her weapon and took aim.   
  
Shaking off the beckoning lips of unconsciousness, Elia started awake and flung her dagger at the aggressor, who staggered back as it sliced through the silvery leather.   
  
Now surging with adrenaline and the Force, Elia pounced forward, kicking out at the crossbow in a such a way that rendered the injured antithesis nearly defenseless. But like a true warrior, Anisse whipped out a short concealed switchblade. Slashing out at Elia as she sparked back, the professional ripped the dagger out of her thigh and threw it across the room, grunting threateningly. Unintimidated by the injury, her eyes glossed over with intention, eliminating all fear of consequences. Charging the healer like a flaming bull, Anisse screeched with frustration as Elia flipped over her head out of her path.   
  
Rushing to her weapon, Elia clutched it close to her chest, coughing through the reconstruction of her tissue. Catching her breath, she waited for the woman to turn around and attack again, fueled by fury. Slashing at each other, they bouted at close range, hacking, yet keenly deflecting the other's efforts.   
  
Unsuspecting, a boot came up between the two, crashing into the healer's jaw. Dazed, she staggered back, taking a thick cut in the arm. But quickly recovering, she dropped to sweep Anisse' feet, and as she tumbled to her back, Elia stabbed down into the soft hollow of the woman's torso.   
  
Rolling out her grasp, Elia extracted the syrupy knife with her. The woman stared up at her, aware the fatal wound would demand her defeat, but with one last chance for life, Anisse kicked upwards at the healer, knocking aside, then hooked her muscular arm around her neck and squeezed.   
  
The physical contact immediately lent her healing energy, and revitalized, the bounty hunter held onto her prey until it fell unconscious in her grasp.  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
En Route to Mandalor  
Anisse Nobel's Cruiser  
++++++++++  
  
  
-Birds flocked about, pecking and nipping flesh off her body. She tried to run and swatch them away, but they were relentless...-  
  
  
The pecking turned into bumping as she woke to a semi-conscious state. What originally appeared as darkness turned into a huge body sack. Losing her breath, she gasped as if she were under water or in the belly of some hungry beast, only to find a wide band strapped strategically across her mouth. Frantically thrashing about, her limbs strained against each other, but all four were knotted in a binding clip behind her back. Bucking back and forth, she twisted her wrists and ankles and knocked about in effort to breath, or somehow tear through the engulfing bladder.   
  
After a panicked struggle, she drew in the Force and settled down into the unnecessary pain she caused herself, and in such quiet, listened to the muffled sounds beyond her captivity. Beneath her, she felt a warm metal purring and the frequent jolting of unstable terrain. The lack of voices suggested a cargo room.   
Exploring the floor like an inch worm, she rocked back and forth until she nudged the perimeter of her confines. Rising to her knees, it seemed no more than smooth wall. Perhaps she was already in her sarcophagus. Sinking back down the floor, she plopped down against the hard metal. As if responding to the boney clatter, a voice rang out . Ah, ah, ah, not yet. It was Anisse Nobel, no doubt. She recognized the deep female voice immediately.  
  
Reverting to a deathlike stillness, Elia wiggled her wrist in small motions calling on the Force for assistance, but she couldn't work the lock nor break the hold. Breathing heavily, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to visualize the lock, but to no avail. She was trapped.   
  
After an incalculable time, Elia felt the ship prepare for landing, and touch down softly. I'm going to let you out now. If you try to escape, I'll shoot you in the heart and sell your remains to every cloning organization that will take you. Are we in agreement?  
  
Elia's arms and legs slowly returned to their original shape, the achy pliancy easing its way to her fingertips. Pressing against the floor, she sat and ripped the adhesive off her mouth, inhaling a gluttonous breath.   
  
Anisse barked a command to move, threading a leash around her neck and tying a blindfold around her eyes, before leading her out of the small vessel.   
  
But where she was being taken, Elia had no idea. It was likely, she tried to rationalize, that she was being sold for her healing capabilities. Trembling, she demanded more control of her fear by disseminating her thoughts with facts, which in turn, she hoped would help her concoct a solution to this rather frightening prospect.  
  
The sounds of a busy city flowed up to her, and the thin atmosphere suggested a great height. Thankfully, the winds of a landing platform subsided, and they traversed downwards a number of floors before exiting.  
  
*  
  
  
Anisse stepped into Curel's primary entrance with no hesitation. Devil's den or not, she would not be intimidated by this soft corporate woman.   
  
Across the way, pounding the tiled entrance with her stiletto heals, Fianat did not appear happy to see them. I thought I told you to meet upstairs? she hissed.  
  
I've got nothing to hide. Do you? Their antithesis towards one another was patent as they drilled each other's eyes. Blowing off the question, Fianat unhitched her hand from her hip and lead them to through the corporate labyrinth to a private lift. Touching the identity decoder, the matte chrome doors slid back and swallowed them up.  
  
Down, down into the belly they went. Shaking for fear, Elia drew up her courage to ask where she would be taken.  
  
Fianat did not bother with a reply, but merely glanced over to the other woman. Its looks like she nearly bested you. Although Anisse had healed neatly, the bloodstains had not been washed away. A purplish, brownish mess of color blotched her armor and a wide hole gaped from her midsection. Although she couldn't see the damage herself, Elia could feel her own brows pull back in evil pride for her work, but little good it did her now for she was still the captive.   
  
As the numbers on the scrolls counted downwards, into the negatives, Anisse wondered if the doors would fold back onto the fiery flames of hell itself. But instead of heat, they were immediately swamped with a block of cold air. As if permeating the walls, Elia's body stiffened, though in contrast, Fianat swayed her angular hips with comfort and confidence. Anisse, instantly nervous about this tactic, became watchful and less talkative. Taking a cleaner hold on Elia, she slipped off the girl's blindfold and pressed her in the lead.  
  
The long hall seemed to be filled with a frost for when they breathed a transluscent mist arose from their words. At the end of this narrow walkway, the silver river fanned out into an intricate lab, complete with live labor. So this is where I am to spend the rest of my days, Elia droned.   
  
If you're lucky, Fianat answered as she touched the identity scanner to allow them access to the actual labs. There's always the dirt patch outside. And before an objection could be made, Fianat pulled a saringe from her lab coat and stabbed it into the healer's neck, a warm feeling flooding throughout her veins.   
  
A tall greenish man with two sets of arms greeted them at the door, but the formality was not returned. Clearing his throat, he suddenly became very quiet and led the captive into another glass closed lab, leaving the two women behind.   
  
Logic fading quickly, Elia was lead to a ten by ten closet and directed to rest on a makeshift cot. Wek was gentle with her though even as he prepared to withdraw her blood by swabbing her arm with cotton. She tried to lurch forward, but her body was unable to respond with any agility. Vicadin, she surmised fighting to retain her thought processes.   
  
Just rest. There's no use trying to escape. The doors here are constantly locked, and you need a retinal scan to get through or you get a radioactive flash that will kill anybody before they leave the building.  
  
What if it's a mistake? she slurred, lying back on the cot as they room began to play tricks of vertigo.  
  
We don't have mistakes like that around here. Buckling in her leg and arm braces, he rolled the coat rack of twisted tubes nearer her cot, and inserted a tube into the clear plastic bag that would hold her blood.   
  
It took great effort to shape the word as the rest of the sentence was lost to a tired muffled.  
  
The more blood we draw, he explained in small effort to distract her from the prick of the needle, the faster your body will produce more.  
  
What are you going to do when you drain me dry? she chuckled the words lightly, her eyes rolling in the sockets uncontrollably.  
  
We will have already begun cloning.  
  
But what will you do in the meantime, until they are ready, I mean? You can't speed the growing process? Although she heard the sarcastic tone dribble out, this was not a question to which she really wanted an answer.   
  
We are attempting to crossbreed the DNA with faster growing creatures.  
  
She snickered even as the water drizzled from the corner of her eyes.  
  
Just remember, Wek pet her forehead gently just before he began drawing her blood, your blood could save thousands of lives for thousands of years. Your life is far more beneficial as a donor, than as a healer.  
  
Elia sensed him leave, then lopped her head to the blank white wall listening to the pump lean back and forth like a seesaw. She let the squeeze ball drop onto the floor, and tried to sit up, but the restraints were tight against her elbows. Kicking her legs gently, she knew there was no use trying to escape.   
  
  
It would have been easier to give into sleep, but she was distracted with too many thoughts. Since she hadn't seen daylight, it was impossible to tell how much time elapsed since her capture. She worried about the other healers, if they had made it to Coruscant, and prayed they weren't too worried. She had to believe that Li'sarrow would keep looking for her, or that somehow, someway, the Jedi would find her.   
  
How could she be so stupid? She was not a Jedi Knight, and her pride and anger had driven her to fight an unconquerable duel against the master bounty hunter. Passed the humiliation at such a defeat, she feared what lie in her future. Was she to be merely a lab pet, or did some worse fate await her as they experimented.... she trembled at the suggestion, curling up into a tight ball.   
  
Solitary confinement left her rolling back and forth on her cot twisting her hands trying to shake off the self-hatred, self-pity, and powerlessness. The image of deformed fetuses floating in glass jars overwhelmed her thoughts, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't stop herself from transposing her face onto those little victims. Burying the side of her face in a sterile plastic pillow, the tears ran hot against her face, her nostrils drowning with mucous, until she she opened her mouth wide and gasped through the pillow. Pressing her face into its darkness, she wished she had been smarter, had thought through the consequences more thoroughly, had not been so idealistic, and begged, begged, begged for forgiveness, and that someone would save her. What did she have left? The Force? She felt empty of it; it had gone away, she pushed it away being selfish.   
  
  
And even if she had killed M'ztka herself and wound up in the same predicament, would she still be regretting her sacrifice, now that she was just beginning to understand how much it would cost?  
  
But Something had already saved her traversing down that Dark Path. Someone had been watching out for her, to prevent her from becoming a cold blooded murderer...  
  
But perhaps that was what she was paying for now, the lives she took in the Nimitz, but if that was case, may her own death be quick and merciful, just as theirs had been. At least their might have been some self-satisfaction that her loss was to the benefit of others.   
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Blavnor, Mandalor  
Curel HQ  
++++++++++  
  
  
The grounds were highly guarded with electronic equipment, making access to the highrise difficult. Obi-Wan sighed as they counted the twentieth surveillance cam on this side of the building.   
  
Besides the fact that Fianat Trafalgar was lying to them, something else seriously plagued him. He hoped the healers had made it off Bonadan successfully, and that Elia was with them. Something told him she was somehow connected to this place, though he had little reason to think so. Running his hands through his hair, he scanned the side of the building with frustration.  
  
What is it?   
  
Qui-Gon frowned when his padawan pretended not to know to what he was referring. You're distracted.  
  
Obi-Wan hung his head and took a deep breath. He didn't want to verbalize his discomfort for fear that it might generate more anxiety, so he swallowed it back down with an apology. This was not appropriate Jedi behavior. I'm sorry, Master. I feel strange about this place, the words came out with the vagueness he was looking for. The direct look to his master was a clear indication that he was not interested in pursuing that conversation.   
  
Now that evening had covered its raven wings over the Blavnor, the two Jedi used its blackness to cloak themselves in the building's shadows. Skirting the building, they checked the ground floor for open windows, or some alternative form of entrance, but the windows remained strategically placed a number of floors up. However, to their benefit, it seemed the office residents were comfortable with this degree of security, and they spied a number of open shutters. Using their cable launchers, they breezed passed the glassy surface that reflected little more than the moon's eerie glow. With plenty of cover from nearby edifices, both predicted there was more safety in traversing upwards than breaking in along the ground level, for security would be less likely to look in this direction.   
  
Hanging from their lines, Obi-Wan gently slipped his fingers alongside the rim of the screen when Qui-Gon stopped him. It may have a security sensor. Let's cut through along the seam. The older man gently sliced through the miniscule steel threads with this lightsaber and peeled it back. Slacking his cable, he hooked his legs over and dropped in.   
  
Allowing his eyes adjust, he heard some shuffling in the room followed by a squawk. Sitting on the desk above him, was a covered birdcage with some very real residents. Obi-Wan overheard the flapping raucous and peeked in as he wrapped in one leg when a soft glowing grew outside the door. Unwilling to risk it, Obi-Wan activated his cable and shot up the building while Qui-Gon squeezed his large frame underneath the bird's desk just as the door slowly creaked open and flashlight pierced the darkness.   
  
Cawing and flapping frantically again, the bird rocked in its cage and the guard jumped out the door. Cursing to himself, he peered in one more time with a quick swipe of the spotlight, then left. Wiping at the drop of sweat that trickled down his sideburns, Qui-Gon deducted that there was a minimum of one guard per floor for one to just happen to be passing by. Scooting out of the tight spot, he moved out of the way as his growing apprentice flung his legs over through the screen without disturbing it's rim.   
  
They could have surveillance cams in the offices as well the halls, so let's keep to the shadows, the older one ordered as he guided them to the door. Although the guard was no where to be seen, there were few places to hide in the broad hallway, and one wrong turn could render them without cover.   
  
Realizing there was not much of an option, they entered the hallway and stepped inconspicuously towards the back of the building where they came upon a mail room of sorts littered with packages. Relieved to no longer be exposed in the primary hallway, they followed the maze inwards. Hopping over the front desk, they worked their way back into the shipping area where boxes were organized into neat piles based on location.   
  
Each floor had an ingoing and outgoing section, except the area marked Lower Levels. Picking up a package, Qui-Gon read over the return address, oddly marked in Basic while everything else seemed internally based or localized. The package was from Coruscant.   
  
Obi-Wan whispered for his attention as he stuck his head in a long metallic tunnel that ran up and down through to the mailrooms that must been on every floor. Which way, up or down?   
  
Lower Levels, Qui-Gon read off the list on the screen. Nodding his head in approval, Obi-Wan stepped in the large compartment while his master punched in the floor level. Hopping in just as it began moving, he counted down the floors as they passed. Four floors. Climbing out at the last stop, they looked around at the exact replica of the other mailroom. Each floor had a section, though the back side to the Lower Levels was open where they pushed the mail through to the offices on the other side. Scooting under, they exited into a staff room, a windowless, pitch black supply area.   
  
What are we looking for? Obi-Wan asked before entering the dark room, but Qui-Gon was looking through one of the packages from the glowing light of a chronometer. Slicing it open, he dug into the package retrieving what he expected.   
  
Obi-Wan held one up the glow of Qui-Gon's saber and found it full. This is more than we need right here- His padawan seemed almost disappointed even as Qui-Gon folded up the packing slip and wrapped it in his coat.   
  
Trust your instincts, padawan. What is it?  
  
Something's telling me we need to look further.  
  
Then we go, Qui-Gon kept his hand on his shoulder as he distinguished his weapon. Using the Force to guide them, they peered into the darkness with nocturnal eyes. Entering through the staff door, they exited to another bull pen of offices.   
  
This isn't right. We've got to get lower. Obi-Wan seemed totally focused now on reaching this unknown destination, as if pulled somehow by invisible threads. Crawling back into the mailroom while Qui-Gon explored, he sent the lift back up and cut into the floor boards with his lightsaber.   
  
As he expected, the shaft continued further down in burst of air. he called over to Qui-Gon. This isn't the lowest level, or we'd be under the ground by now. It must be the ventilation system for the lower levels since they have no outside air. Using his grappling hook, they young man lowered himself down followed by his master. As far as he could see, there were no mailroom exits like above, so when he reached the bottom, two or three floors down, the shaft opened up horizontally in two directions at a right degree angle. Crawling inwards, he ignited his saber to find an intricate system of air shafts. Finally, they reached a glowing line of vents that looked down upon more rooms.   
  
Upon first glance, he couldn't be sure of what he saw. Everything was a bright white blur, but he moved on further for Qui-Gon's sake. he confirmed. They moved on, and saw the cooling units full of centrefuge samples similar to what Qui-Gon saw at the Vending Station back on Bonadan.   
  
But the real horror was yet to be seen. Holding his breath, Obi-Wan looked down in abhorrence at living, moving beings encased in preserving fluid. Pressing his face into the slivered vent, he saw rows and rows of living specimens, some terribly deformed and out of proportion.   
  
Suddenly unable to move on, he laid his forehead against the cold metal until after a few moments, Qui-Gon urged him on. They left there knowing more than they ever wanted- the truth the healers feared about cloning.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
As soon as they were safely away, Qui-Gon contacted the Jedi Council. This is far more serious than expected. We found centrefuge samples being shipped in from offworld, and the type of experiments occurring there are unimaginable.  
  
Little know you of such scientific practices, Yoda touched his lips with one of his three pudgy fingers and continued. But trust your judgment we must. Acquired you have this information illegally, therefore cannot we use it against them. Speak to this Leopold Trafalgar, and report his response while assemble we an investigative team.  
  
Obi-Wan moped on the edge of the sleep couch, a droopy head propped up on one hand. Looking over to see his padawan in such a state concerned Qui-Gon, reminding him to ask about those they left behind. Have all the healers reached Coruscant safely?  
  
His padawan turned his head with interest.  
  
Still missing one is, Yoda replied. Searching still, Master Li'sarrow is. Contacted her home planet, Dathomir, we tried, but cannot get through.  
  
Li'sarrow's still on Bonadan then?  
  
Hmmm... Concerned the Senate is about economic collapse. Army they have sent just as we feared, since M'ztka's disappearance.  
  
Qui-Gon pressed his master for details, but as usual, he was vague.  
  
Know we not as of yet.  
  
Obi-Wan scrubbed his face in frustration and lopped over to his back as Qui-Gon and Yoda finished up their conversation.  
  
Even when Qui-Gon had finished cleaning up in the fresher, his padawan was stuck in the exact same position. Although Obi-Wan's eyes were still open, Qui-Gon turned off the light anyway and settled into bed.   
  
Do you think that's why she's gone? That she killed M'ztka and ran off?  
  
Do you think she's capable of murder? Qui-Gon tenderized his pillow with pounding and turned onto his side.   
  
There's something I didn't tell you before. She killed all those Simmians in the Nimitz. Obi-Wan couldn't tell if his master was silent because he was surprised or simply exhausted.  
  
Master Li'sarrow mentioned something about it. Does that change your opinion of her?  
  
You knew?  
  
I didn't think it mattered.  
  
Not suspecting that answer, he was silent for a moment before beginning his next thought. Scooting up the bed onto his stomach, he rested his cheek on his arm and glanced over to his resting companion on the other sleepcouch. Not wanting to keep his master awake on his account, he turned his head the other direction, lost in his thoughts.   
  
What is it, padawan?  
  
Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure.  
  
That statement sounds familiar, Qui-Gon sighed, recalling the innumerable amount of times he had told his pupil that very line. Good night, then. Sleep well.  
  
But Obi-Wan's night was filled with anything but sleep. Preoccupied with the mission and the other distraction concerning Elia, he tried to rationalize his true purpose on Mandalor. The images in the lab flooded his mind to the point of nausea, and couldn't help but feel responsible for not having acted sooner.   
  
There was something very evil surrounding Elia, and even stretching out the Force couldn't pinpoint. Even though he felt he'd earned her trust in the last few months, he could never be sure if she was being honest with him, as if she had some ulterior motive in every action. While it seemed she trusted him, why couldn't he trust her?   
  
  
  
  
++++++++++  
Blavnor, Mandalor  
++++++++++  
  
  
Good morning, Jedi, Fianat's saccharine smile bubbled with sunshine as they entered her private offices once more. Trafalgar, less than enthusiastic, nodded in their direction, but remained intent on gazing out the window at the world below.   
  
Unlike his usual appearance at negotiations, Trafalgar was clean shaven, his shirt tucked in, and his hair combed back neatly. He had even brought a jacket in with him, though it was draped respectively against the back of the orange couch. Obi-Wan sensed his distraction immediately, and the overdone display of cheer of his sister. They appeared the odd couple, for though he hadn't known this woman for much more than a day, Trafalgar was not one to put on airs like her.  
  
After the general formalities allowed them to be seated and pleasantries were set aside, they moved onto business.  
  
To begin, I'd like to make it clear that Tlaska has been officially invited to speak for the corporate sector and for Mandalor.  
  
Qui-Gon gave little more than a slight raise of his brow when he learned that Tlaska had enough power to overrule the Mandalorian government as well the system's CSA, but didn't dwell on how this came about. Then you are willing to deal?  
  
We've already shared our treaty with the Senate this morning, and Senator Palpatine's lawyers are reviewing the terms and conditions we've outlined here. She pulled a docudisk from an attaché case and loaded it into a datapad.   
  
Impressed, Qui-Gon hardly had the time to process what had just occurred. Negotiations rarely had gone so smoothly; and now that they had seen the lower level labs, he was certain they were working with someone in the Senate.   
  
She continued on through his silent gasp. We agree to begin transition under certain terms. She bustled in her seat, presenting them file after file while Trafalgar did little more than simply sit and listen and his sister unfolded the details of the procedure. The heavy slave tariff must be repealed for all companies and systems that accommodate the terms of the treaty. Each company should be able to opt for droid or other paid labor, depending on their situation. But most importantly, the transition may take an extended deal of time before systems can afford to completely transits. We'll also have to make financial accommodations for companions we cannot financially bare the burden of paid labor....  
  
She flew through the terms so quickly, Qui-Gon felt she was trying to brush passed something, so he frequently interrupted with questions, but all were met with a direct answer. She even went so far as to follow up with a personal message from Senator Palpatine thanking her for the contracts, and that they were being reviewed currently.   
  
Just as she passed the paperwork to be signed, Obi-Wan, who had been eyeing Trafalgar with a quick moody suspicion, interrupted. What about cloning?  
  
She turned her head towards him and looked him up and down. Cloning does not play into this situation. M'ztka was a fool to propose such a ridiculous idea. That's probably what got him killed. Not only that, but its illegal, she stated matter-of-factly. Thankfully Obi-Wan did not push the issue further, though Qui-Gon noticed his fists begin to ball beneath the sleeves of his robe.  
  
Uninterested in their reaction to this last comment, Fianat signed the documents before them, then passed them around the table, adding, Kiltma and Chlak have already signed, so that's all we need. The corners of her lips curled up in satisfaction as she shuffled her disks and filed them back away.   
  
When did you meet with Kiltma and Chlak? Qui-Gon wondered aloud.  
  
We didn't. They reviewed the treaty from Coruscant and signed this morning.  
  
Then what did you need us for? Obi-Wan bantered in his thick toned sarcasm.  
  
Formality, and we wouldn't want you traveling back to Coruscant misinformed.  
  
Clapping her hands clean, she stood and offered her hand. It's been a pleasure meeting with you. They all rose, even the mute Trafalgar, who offered his hand politely and spoke up. We've arranged a transport for you to return to Coruscant.  
  
Obi-Wan paused before touching the young man's hand, glaring into his eyes even as he looked away. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon thanked him, but politely declined the transport. We have some other business we need to attend to first.  
  
Brother and sister avoided each other's gaze where one might have expected a sideways glance. It will be waiting for you at your convenience then, Fianat filled in where her brother stood dumbfounded.   
  
In fact, Fianat did an excellent job in filling the space that might have otherwise escalated into a confrontation should anyone dared to speak what was really on their minds. Qui-Gon could sense his padawan itch with anticipation to ask about the lab, but decidedly avoided the topic and turned his back on his disappointment as he led them out the door.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
A call to the Council revealed they, too, had just been informed of the Senate's deal with the CSA, and confirmed once again that troops were on their way but their demands were clear. Go back and get Li'sarrow, then return to Coruscant.   
  
What about the labs we found?  
  
Send a committee to investigate we will.  
  
Master Yoda, Obi-Wan began to protest his decision, but a knobby finger held his words at bay.  
  
So strongly you feel about this, then prohibit you I will not, but be cautious. Sense evil at work, I do.  
  
Obi-Wan bowed as the customary closing faded on the viewscreen. Tying up his things in his small duffel, Obi-Wan stood contemplatively near the door as Qui-Gon pulled his things together when suddenly, he dropped his bag. Igniting his lightsaber, Obi-Wan dashed aside just as a red flash exploded threw the front window in a shower of glass shards.  
  
As Obi-Wan regained his footing, Qui-Gon leaped from the other room side kicking the aggressor as she popped off two shots with her crossbow. The wall behind Obi-Wan burst in plaster chunks as he tumbled forward with the impact. Don't hit her arrows with your lightsaber or they could detonate, Qui-Gon urged as he sprang towards her. But she threw herself back out the window, swinging on a flexicable, and fired into the room again as the Jedi dashed aside. The wall that exited to the hallway crumbled into chunks.   
  
Repelling sideways along the slick surface of synthetic stone and glass, she gave herself a running start and fired inside again swinging back and forth like a living pendulum. Screeching when she saw they were still alive, she went for another pass, but on her return flight, Obi-Wan sailed out the window and clung onto her waist sending them flying precariously downwards on the flexicable. Flinging his grappling hook up and over an exposed metal beam within the room, Qui-Gon hopped out the open window, slacking his line until just below the two fighters.   
  
This kind of cable can't hold the two of us, Jedi! she screamed as the line sunk down further. One us has got to go, she struggled with him, hacking into his back with the edge of her crossbow as he clung to her belt.   
  
Down below, Qui-Gon gruffly barked a command to let her go as they neared him. You're slipping. Use your liquid-  
  
Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan just as the two slumped downward with the additional weight. Immediately shooting out his own cable, Obi-Wan was soon supporting himself, while Anisse dangled below on a thinning elasticable. Taking advantage of the situation, the Jedi each took hold of her line, Obi-Wan threatening to cut her line as he held his lightsaber close to it.   
  
Roaring in frustration, she planting her feet against the glass and sprinted aside, yanking the rope out of their grasp. The two followed immediately, but she bounced back up the wall to another floor and kicked it in. Swooping in after her, they were careful to avoid another two shots from the Crossbow and watched as they detonated outside the window.   
  
Luckily the room was unoccupied, and they backed her into a wall at saber's edge as she desperately struggled to reload her weapon. But before she could do so, Qui-Gon sliced through her weapon and kicked it aside. Who sent you?  
  
Unexpectedly, she released a vibroblade from inside her shirt sleeve and swiped it towards him, though Qui-Gon easily deflected it, singing the edge of her hand.  
  
Immediately recognizing Elia's weapon, Obi-Wan pressed in closer to the bounty hunter, who now panted ferociously like a trapped animal. Where did you get that?  
  
Want to know where she is? The tide had now totally turned. Let me go, she slowly pushed herself off the wall with a slippery ease and parted them with two seemingly delicate hands.   
  
You will tell us. Careful of her deception, they continued to keep their weapons poised and moved alongside her. How do you know I didn't kill her?   
  
For your sake, I certainly hope you did not, Qui-Gon reasoned allowing the buzz of his green sword tickle the side of her face.   
  
We know her blood was in great demand. She's too valuable to kill.   
  
she turned toward Obi-Wan and both blades rose to her neck. In an instant, she dove back out the floor length window and whipped the dagger towards Obi-Wan, embedding it in his thigh.   
  
Jumping after her, Qui-Gon caught her foot as she hung upside down, kicking at his bulky vise-like hands. In the background, he could hear his padawan grunt to himself as he pulled out the small knife. Lurching over, he looked down at the woman with clenched teeth and sliced through the fliexirope that was still attached to her midriff, with the threat of free falling the fifty or so floors down.   
  
Cursing in wretched quips as they pulled her up by both legs, she made one last attempt to throw her remaining tipped arrows at them, but Obi-Wan shook the bag from her grasp and tossed it out of her reach. Qui-Gon promptly tied her up even as she spat at him, but once she knew her captors were not going to let her escape, she settled into a haughty stiffness.   
  
Where are you taking me? She asked as they walked her down the hall and hailed a cab.   
  
  
  
With a half-hearted snicker, she snapped at their stupidity. You'll never get out of their alive.   
  
What have they got to hide?  
  
You may as well tell us now, since it will be apparent to the Trafalgar's that you were the one who lead us there.  
  
But she was silent the entire trip to Curel. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan bandaged up his leg though his pale visage wouldn't have admitted to any pain. He seemed more intent on breaking into the lab and revealing what they had hidden in there, including Elia.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Entering through the main hall, they whizzed passed the massive mural of Mandalorian Conquest and rounded a corner to a hidden lift. A few people noticed the oddity of the threesome, but dared not mention so and refused eye contact.   
  
At sword point, Obi-Wan forced the bounty hunter to press her hand into print decoder and punch in the access code. As expected, the floor moved down and the doors spun to the other side of the chamber before opening onto a long bland hallway. Weary of length even as the woman walked fearlessly into it, the two visitors were on high guard. Eventually they came to the front of the labs, only to be met with a squadron of guards, and Fianat standing bravely behind the impenetrable plexiglass sheeting. The line parted, allowing the two to see inside.  
  
I'm surprised you made it this far, she folded her hands over her white lab coat, holding up a saringe, but you won't be going much farther. Stepping out the way, she wheeled a lethargic healer in front of her and held the needle to her neck.   
  
Now, release my assassin.  
  
Glancing back and forth at each other, they had no choice but to obey. Squirming with eagerness, Anisse immediately snatched away their weapons and hung them from her own belt in satisfaction. Backing up behind the guards, she gave the order to kill them.   
  
The five Mandalorian guards, in a steel colored armor and heavy destructive power, opened fire towards them. Qui-Gon's robe was peppered with shots as he leaped upwards and to the side with the grace of a gazelle. Landing on top two at the same time, he pounced down on their shoulders. And even as they were going down, he lunged out at Anisse, his heavy frame dragging her down with them. Going straight for his eyes, he had no choice but to knock her aside with a clenched fist as one of the guards he had trampled was quickly regaining his bearings. Kicking out as he untangled himself underneath Qui-Gon's feet, the guard gripped his weapon to take another shot, but badly aimed, pinged off the plexiglass in an array of ricochet. With one more hard swipe with the side of his boot, Qui-Gon twisted the weapon out of his grip, the T shaped face guard warping with the blow. Once again struggling with Anisse as she tried to crawl for freedom, Qui-Gon pulled out an arm from beneath her, and pressed down on her back with his full weight, groping for their weapons stung across her belt.   
  
Meanwhile, in a similar effort to escape the barrage of blaster fire, Obi-Wan had flipped over the guards heads, and landed in the narrow space behind them, only to overtake the end guard's blaster and shoot off a few rounds into his neighbor. Kneeing him in the back as he strained to get away, Obi-Wan pushed the guard over his fallen comrade onto the other, who immediately responded with more blaster fire. Improvising without his lightsaber, he flung himself into a low roll over the entangled two and into the Mandalorian's legs, throwing him off balance. While the guard's blaster was still in the air, Obi-Wan sprang up to take hold of his wrist and twisted it until the weapon fell free. He then kicked in at the stiff elbow in a hyperextended pop that left the guard bellowing.   
  
Even as the other guard recovered, Obi-Wan watched Fianat wheel Elia back and back into a maze of glass labs, pausing before each retinal exam before moving on.   
  
Tackling the last standing Mandalorian, Obi-Wan wrestled him to the ground, fighting for the blaster as it went off around his head. Rolling back into the wall, the butt end of a blaster smashed into his cheek, but as the guard scrambled up, Obi-Wan took advantage of the situation and kicked directly between his legs, causing the creature to double over. But even in his pain, he raised the blaster, just as Qui-Gon sliced it in two with his lightsaber. With one firm kick, the last guard was taken out, and Obi-Wan was reunited with his blue saber.   
  
Anisse shook her head in a state of semi-consciousness, spitting out a steady stream of blood. Wiping a trickle away from his own eyes, Qui-Gon showed little sympathy and heaved her up towards the retinal scan. The door opened and he shoved her through when a bright light flashed before them.   
  
Anisse staggered for a moment and then cursed a bloody yodel. Goddamn you bitch! Yanking off her pack, she fell to her knees and dug through her pack for a miniature crossbow and threaded it as fast as she could. The door before her exploded, followed by the lab equipment, computers, specimens, and research databases. One explosion after another rang out while the Jedi began to understand what had just occurred. She was dying. Without any effort to stop her, they sliced through the plexiglass with their lightsabers and jumped inside as Anisse weakened and slumped over onto her side, her eyes glazed over from the radiation.   
  
Grabbing her weapon bag as they stomped through the decimated glass walls, they could see more guards arrive in the background, but the Jedi pressed on. Fianat had cornered herself beside the living specimens and could do nothing but panic at this point and call out relentlessly towards the charging team of guards.   
  
Stop right there. I'll do it. I swear. Qui-Gon watched closely as Fianat's trembling hand dared pierce the skin on Elia's neck. A rack of fetuses remained between them. She need only hold out until the guards arrived. Two passed through and were flashed instantly, while the others picked their way over the glass opening the Jedi had made with their lightsabers.   
  
Her violet eyes flared with frenzy in those few milliseconds she squeezed the liquid into her victim's neck, but Qui-Gon's hawk-like eyes were perceptive, and he instantly threw out a Force projection that flung her and her weapon back into an free standing aquarium in which hibernated one of her breathing creations. Toppling over it, she was bathed in its fetal juices, even as the smooth skinned creature flopped to its airy death.   
  
Snatching up Elia, Qui-Gon plowed forward, deflecting fire where he could, but stayed keenly behind his padawan to draw the majority of the danger. The two of the three guards that were left ended up with their own blaster fire rerouted back into them, and the third was met with a clean swipe of a lightsaber.   
  
Remembering the mail room, Qui-Gon slipped out the floor board in the staff room and crouched inside, shoving Elia in first. Rushing out as more guards were rushing in down the long hall, Obi-Wan paused momentarily to toss Anisse's volatile bag towards them and dashed the other direction. A fireball bellowed out the mouth of the hall as Obi-Wan dipped down into the metallic compartment. Using the Force to make the jump upwards, he sailed through the tight space, quick behind Qui-Gon who weaved his way through mail boxes.   
  
They are calling an evacuation which means the labs will probably self-destruct. We've got to hurry, he shouted as they sprinted down the hallway. The front entrance was empty as well, and that overbearing painting was the last life they saw until they came barreling outside. Guards immediately whisked them away to a throng of people who were still being herded to a safe distance when a hole broke through the corner edge of the building. For a moment, it swayed threatening to topple, but its dizzying circular pattern soon lulled to stop. When they turned back, a puff of black smoke had swallowed the street like an ashy remembrance of Pompeii, choking its victims with a cloud of lies.   
  
Barely taking a second glance, they hurried on towards the spaceport.   
  



	14. Savior

Savior 

+++++++++++++++++  
Coruscant to the Verona En Route to Bonadan  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
We'll hit Walkar, Melbanka, Haalst simultaneously. The appointed General of the New Republican Army informed Senator Palpatine of his intentions. We will attempt to retrieve the Governor and Jedi Master Li'sarrow before the attack-  
  
No need, Palpatine sliced the idea in two. The likelihood of their survival is minimal. Strike immediately. The Senator did not leave room for questions, but the veteran General was familiar with wartime etiquette and risked the query. Should we announce our intentions to the populace?  
  
The stoic face revealed the Senator's resolve. Bonadan is now the enemy and should be treated as such. Strike as planned. Touching his lips lightly, Palpatine continued for confirmation. You are still jamming communication?  
  
The General nodded in affirmation.  
  
Make sure there is no outside contact with the planet until it is secure. No one goes in, no one goes out. Is that clear? Testing his general's loyalty, Palpatine cocked an eyebrow to assure that his every word be followed.  
  
Yes, sir. ALL ports will be closed; no ships shall be allowed admittance nor departure.  
  
Very well. He seemed satisfied enough in his choice when the decorated commander bowed respectfully.   
  
Your counterparts will rendezvous with you shortly, at which time you may begin landing your craft. With that, the Senator ended the link.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
En route Mandalor to Bonadan  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
In the short amount of time it took to gain a transport, the recently abducted healer had revived. The small amount of Speed with which Fianat had injected her actually counteracted the sedative Wek gave her earlier. Although any larger a dose might have been fatal, now she sat quietly behind the two Jedi as they lifted off Mandalor.  
  
Hovering in the space port docking bay before gently easing away, Obi-Wan suddenly pulled the craft to a halt. Just before their take off, the control tower was attempting to reroute them to another atmospheric window.   
  
Obeying, Obi-Wan redirected the small transport. While Qui-Gon did not demand an explanation, a look revealed that such was an odd maneuver, considering the space port seemed perfectly clear a few moments ago.   
  
Both men peered out the front plexiglass barrier searching for the cause of the interruption. From just behind lay another hangar within which seemed an important entourage had amassed. Although they were unable to see specifics, Obi-Wan flew slowly out of their dock, increasing their vision momentarily before the view disappeared altogether.   
  
It must be a diplomatic mission, Elia contributed, immediately recognizing the Mandalorian insignia. But the two Jedi merely glanced over to one another in quiet suspicion.   
  
They watched as ten or more engines fired up readying to depart, and just before they slipped out vision, a rippling effect washed over the transports, rendering them invisible.   
  
Why would a friendly diplomatic mission require a cloaking device? the younger Jedi thought aloud.  
  
What do you mean? the healer popped her head between the two, but Obi-Wan commanded her to sit back as they were granted permission for take off.   
  
  
*****  
  
  
Half way into their journey, Obi-Wan began to get very nervous. I must be making a mistake, he mumbled to himself as he fidgeted with the keys. I can't get through. All communications are down on Bonadan, Obi-wan's voice hinted at nervousness, and a secondary glance at Qui-Gon revealed he was feeling the heat as well.   
  
Contact Coruscant, maybe they imposed the blackout as a part of sanctions. I'll take it from here.   
  
Yes, master. Obi-Wan spun out of the pilot's chair and logged into another system, strapping on a headset.  
  
You're not making a mistake, Jedi Obi-Wan, Elia sat up out of her comfortable nook where the Jedi had thought she was sleeping. Communication has been out on Bonadan since I left. She wiped sleep from her eyes as if she were washing with imaginary water.  
  
Pausing, Obi-Wan listened as she recounted her last conscious moments on Bonadan. ...Altogether, Bonadan has given itself over to Martial Law.  
  
Qui-Gon had not foreseen such violence, buy now that the treaty had been signed, there would be no need for military advancement and they could refocus the singularity of retrieving Li'sarrow.   
  
You'll be pleased to know, Qui-Gon concluded, that the healers made it safely Coruscant. Unfortunately, Master Li'sarrow is still not accounted for.  
  
She stayed behind to look for me.... Dropping her head, she recalled the prayer she recited that her Master would not leave her behind. Could she take back a prayer?  
  
Although Obi-Wan was on hold for more information, he listened to their conversation out of one ear. Now that Elia knew Master Li'sarrow was still in danger, she would never return to Coruscant independently. He had planned to secure an escort for the healer, and then retrieve Master Li'sarrow with Qui-Gon. Now, Elia would demand to go with them, and if Bonadan was in the condition she claimed, recovery of Master Li'sarrow seemed slim.  
  
A voice interrupted and he had to turn his attention away from their conversation, though they continued.  
  
Why didn't you go with them? Qui-Gon asked gently, reaching out a comforting hand.  
  
Her eyes had glazed over. I went to kill M'ztka.   
  
The direct statement cut the air. Obi-Wan, listening with half an ear, knew they would have to turn her in if she actually killed the political leader. Yes, I'm here...  
  
But Anisse got to him first, the older man finished her thought as if he understood from the beginning. Touching her knee, it was all very clear to him what had happened those last few moments on the planet.   
  
Tapping his bold knuckles with ginger fingertips, she thwarted emotion with a quivering chin, when Obi-Wan interrupted with an impatient tone.   
  
No. I'm trying to reach the Jedi Council. My access code is 5`55`KB`.  
  
Yes, its imperative.... Thank you.... Yes, he's here. We are en route to Bonadan now.... No, we've not made contact with anyone on planet for some time. Since yesterday 8030 ST. You can't get through either? They're what?  
  
He looked over to Qui-Gon who hadn't even turned around, but remained patient throughout the conversation. We can be there in one hour.  
  
Obi-Wan unhitched the headset and swiveled away from the consul. The new army is in control now.  
  
Although the Jedi Master did not seem to reveal any reaction, he was thoroughly surprised by this move. What's the Council to say?  
  
Master Yoda is trying to work with the Senate, but the army's already been deployed and is now in Trafalgar's hands.  
  
  
Barely bothering with an upwards glance, Qui-Gon admitted their defenselessness in a sigh. We cannot interfere, and Master Li'sarrow is stranded with no idea.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Outskirts of Bonadan Air Space  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
An hour later, Trafalgar glided into the General's private quarters. His splendidly colorful attire dripped with golden medals that reflected superiority, but they were nothing more than heavy items of show. However, the clothes did not cover his casual demeanor as he sunk back into the soft dark skin of some gamed animal. Smiling, the two drank naturally. The Chancellor told me to expect you. We appreciate your cooperation.  
  
Of course. We are here to do whatever we can, He swept open his palm in an courteous offering, and it was promptly filled with a glass of champagne.   
  
After the general was served, they paused to smile at one another and toast to their success before moving onto business.   
  
We've blockaded entry and departure, but we waiting for your signal before we went down below. The General directed him to view the miles and miles of ships that spread out into the stars around Bonadan.   
  
You are certainly well equipped, the young man admitted, his lips curling in satisfaction.  
  
The Republic was very generous with their stores. I guess they were afraid of appearing cheap. They laughed heartily over that one until Trafalgar got strangely serious again.  
  
So you've not had contact with anyone?  
  
No, not in any significant way. We've intercepted a number of small vessels attempting to flee, but they were either shot down or returned.  
  
What about ships trying to get in? Trafalgar's mind spun with how the Jedi might infiltrate the blockade, and in the process, learn more than they need. There were a couple of cargo ships that hadn't heard about this mess, but they turned away with no problems.  
  
I'm glad to hear it hasn't been a problem. But in the future, I'd like to be informed of all other attempts to penetrate the blockade. I may have some unexpected visitors.   
  
The General narrowed his eyes, wondering if this might interfere with their intentions, but respectfully agreed to accommodate his wishes. As long as we can still go ahead.  
  
Trafalgar worried that the general would soon learn out much more than he bargained for if the Jedi really did survive, as his father feared. He didn't care what happened to his sister, but he did care about preserving this newly acquired power. You are free to do so now.  
  
The General's suspicions melted away into a smile as he stood. Are you ready then? Spreading his arm out before him, the General opened his hand to lead his guest to the bridge where he would assume command.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Outskirts of Bonadan Airspace  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
Onwards they sped towards Bonadan, trapped in the smooth black of space, where action was stilled at the mercy of Time, and one was only left with the truth of their own thoughts.   
  
Qui-Gon's thick voice almost cracked into the stillness. How's that wound looking?  
  
Obi-Wan slowly turned sideways with a look that clearly stated he didn't want to concern himself with it. It's nothing, he admitted quietly, losing his master's gaze out in the space before him.   
  
Seeking distraction, it was at this moment that Elia even noticed he was wounded. So much for my senses, she noted to herself, unbuckling herself and scooting forward.   
  
You don't even have a medkit, he commented with one last effort to be left alone.  
  
The Bacta in your utility belt will do just fine, she admitted.  
  
Resolved, he quietly pulled out the small pack of tincture and passed it on to Qui-Gon as Elia rolled up her sleeves.   
  
Obi-Wan held back a roll of the eyes as Qui-Gon nodded for him to turn about. Swiveling around, the Jedi swung out his stiff leg. At some point, he found the time to tie off the wound, and as he loosened it, they were glad to see it had stopped bleeding even though his pant leg was burnished brown and sticky from dried blood. Slowly yanking his pant leg out of his boot, Obi-Wan gently rolled up the damp crumpled cloth.   
  
As it neared the wound, he flinched slightly as it began to bleed again.  
  
Here, I'll do it, Elia offered as he looked away and gripped the edge of his bucket consul chair as the wound tore further.   
  
I'm sorry. Watching him subtly cringe, she made a diamond with her index finger and thumb over the wound. The area grew warm, and he was surprised to admit the sensitivity decreased enough to continue in more comfort.  
  
Obi-Wan overtook Elia's hands and gently helped her peel away the fabric from the wound. A meaty flap of skin eased open, stuck to the fabric. Qui-Gon winced at the sight.   
  
It's superficial. That's why you were able to walk on it. For the first time, she actually touched his bare skin, and it sent shivers up her spine. Delicately slipping her hand further up his pant leg, she gently lifted the fabric away from his skin. They could both feel him draw the Force around him to adjust to the discomfort. Flopping the skin back on top of the raw wound, she patted her fingertips along the top, and summoned her healing powers. An itchy, tingling feeling spread over the wound, and he unclenched his fists as the pain subsided.   
  
Now rub the Bacta around, she commanded and sat back.  
  
Qui-Gon handed it off, and took a long look at the healed area. He understood why the gene was so valuable. Whether it be used for good or evil, it was a powerful tool.   
  
  
*****  
  
After the excitement was over, it was natural to fall back into the anxious monotony. It seemed world's ago that Elia had been locked in her cage, a lab rat. She didn't want to think about that place anymore, but her thoughts kept rerouting against her will. Then there was Bonadan, that den of death. Why did she survive? There was something impersonal and numbing about the explosion that nearly drown out Marta's last words pleading for a merciful end to the horror.  
  
Too self-conscious to cry about what was already gone, she hunched in the darkness of the corner and looked out into the stars pulling back when her breath fogged the window. Elia drew her feet in closer, and finally tucked them up under her legs. The black was comforting, isolated, and it swallowed her whole in its infinity.  
  
Floating out in the inky distance, Bonadan loomed a lackluster gray, a mysterious quartz seemingly worthless. The next hour ticked by in an eternity, shortened only by the Republic's blockade far out in the distance. Still tiny dots, they soon rushed up to meet them.   
  
Elia peered out the small porthole towards the planet, examining its intricacies. There were no strings of turquoise, and there was no pretty woman looking back at her, but she did notice the twinkle of colored lights that flashed out in the darkness. What is that?  
  
Even from that great distance, they witnessed the demolition of the planet. An attack, Qui-Gon's steady voice was definitive. Buckle in. Displacing the shock that Bonadan was under attack, Elia strapped in as a hoard of red pellets battered the side of their transport. What are they doing? her eyes grew wide as a combat-equipped airship flanked their port side.  
  
Shields up. Should we resist? Obi-Wan took a second to glance at his master as he evaded more fire.   
  
No, there are too many fighters.  
  
Instantly, the rolling ceased and Obi-Wan leveled out the ship as fighters encircled them. Let them escort us in, Qui-Gon reasoned. They will take us to whoever is in charge. At least we will have the resources to reach Li'sarrow.  
  
HIs padawan did as he was told, but did not share his master's optimism that they would be given much help, especially if they found Trafalgar in charge.   
  
Even before Qui-Gon finished his statement, their transport shook with the   
gravity of a tractor beam. A single look among Jedi communicated patience, but Elia was sure they had to be a little apprehensive at the move. When the doors slid open, they were greeted with two officiates and a number of white clad guards, all heavily armed.   
  
Taking this in stride, they allowed themselves to taken deep into the vessel without much more than a request to see whoever was in charge.  
  
  
*****  
  
The Jedi were lead down a maze of military corridors, yet strangely enough, they were not bound and their weapons had not been confiscated. Not sure what to make of this trusting move, Qui-Gon paid keen attention to the Force and hoped they would not have to fight, but when they were sealed into a mysterious room, his doubts arose.   
  
Stepping forth from the center of the hexagonally shaped room, Trafalgar smirked at his guests as they were escorted in. Passing through two rows of sheer curtains, the guards held back in the purple shadows as the others slipped by the satin caresses of the drapes. Initially obscured by the transparent layers of shimmering cloth, they now saw the innards of the room in all its gilded glory. Oversized sitting pillows in a dual colored fabric lined the edge of the curtains, while an arabesque detailed throne headed the circular arena.   
  
Wasting little time on appreciating the odd decor, the Jedi bowed to the sultan as Elia did little more than dip her head. Trafalgar snickered at the effort and mentally noted the number of personal bodyguards that he knew surrounded the room from behind the folds.   
  
I'll bet you are surprised to see me, he finally spoke. Although none more than I you. At this, he tipped his champagne glass in their direction and took a giant swig, finishing it off, then smashed it down into the stone polished floor.  
  
He continued, Well, it looks like I've got something you want, and you've got something I want. Trafalgar pointed at Elia, then curled a seductive finger beckoning her towards him, but received nothing more than a glare of disgust. If the Jedi seemed to have forgotten the girl in the singularity of their focus, they now moved together like the Cliffs of Scylla (Jason and the Argonauts) to guard her, but eased off when Trafalgar wagged his finger at them. Wait until you see what I've got.  
  
In a number of seconds, Master Li'sarrow was pulled through a wall of opalescent tiers of glittering fabric. Catching her breath with relief, Elia wanted to rush forward into her master's arms and tell her how wrong she had been, and the choices she had made were selfish and careless. But now was not the time, Li'sarrow's eyes understood all and commanded her to stay put. Peering between the two Jedi, Elia noticed Li'sarrow's impeccable demeanor, and the fear that her master may have been injured on her account dissipated into hope. Li'sarrow's braids ringing her crown were untouched and her robe was not in the least disturbed. In fact, she looked entirely serene had it not been for the electro-shackles that bound her wrists.  
  
Qui-Gon began, still weary that more guards were not within sight. Might I inquire as to why Master Li'sarrow is in your custody?  
  
She has broken a trade agreement and infiltrated a secure area. A smooth lie, a skill fit for a politician.  
  
As far as I understand the treaty we signed had nothing to do with a Mandalorian take-over.  
  
His nostrils flared, and there was some movement behind the screens. Perhaps you haven't been informed yet, but I have been elected to-  
  
If the offer is one Jedi for another, we do not accept, Qui-Gon bold words stood alone. He would not be talked down by a weakling politician.  
  
Then you all will be dead within the hour. There was a feminine swagger to his hips as he turned his back on them and faced Li'sarrow, but Qui-Gon was not about to allow him to walk away.  
  
By what means? We can easily take out your hidden guards.  
  
Ha! The real question is, he turned a full circle, how would you plan on leaving? Your ship is still being held under our tractor.  
  
Before Qui-Gon could respond, a messenger bustled through the door with a small plate. The youth read it efficiently and delicately set it back down, his cheeks creasing into a jester-like smile.   
  
  
The stiletto heals pounding the slick floor announced her presence before a hidden door whooshed open somewhere behind the screens. Framed by the angular light piercing her sharp expression, she posed as rigid as a mannequin. One by one, she tapped out a straight line to the center of the room, brushing aside the drapery.   
Look, dear brother, Fianat folded her arms across her chest. Should we not see surprise upon these faces after they left me to die?  
  
Yes, it's been a true resurrection, dear sister. The last word slurred out harshly and he rolled his eyes at her drama as she continued.  
  
You will die today, and so will all your precious Simmians. The saccharine words slipped out like from a forked tongue.  
  
Why don't you keep me? Li'sarrow spoke for the first time, avoiding all eye contact with the Jedi lest they oppose her intentions. I am a healer. I am all you need. Subtly waving her hand towards them, she tried to persuade their thoughts.   
  
She is all we need, Trafalgar whispered to himself turning towards her as if she had just solved his problem.  
  
No, no! Fianat sliced a flat hand through the air and the clutched her brow with the other. If that's true, Fianat swayed and closed her eyes, Then heal this.  
  
Her violet eyes flamed as she pulled forth a hidden blaster and shot Li'sarrow.  
  
  
Time slowed as the Jedi ignited their sabers and kicked out towards the two siblings while colored light rained down the party from the hidden Mandalorian guards. Both Trafalgar's were instantly knocked down and the Jedi spun back to back to ward off the array of light that seemed to appear from the folds of the curtains.   
  
Meanwhile, Elia lurched forward falling on top Fianat as the deadly rays passed overhead. Kicking her hard in the face, she swiped the blaster and crawled towards her master who lay in utter stillness on the cold floor.   
  
Rolling her to the gold throne for cover, they laid next to each other as Elia sought out the wound. But before she could examine it, something caught hold of her foot, and she was ripped away from her master's side.   
  
Trafalgar yanked, sliding her on her stomach across the smooth floor. Laying the entire of his body on top of her, he pinned her hands above her head and ripped the blaster from her grip.   
  
  
*  
  
The blaster fire, passing directly through the sheer curtains without so much as shredding even a single thread, peppered them from all sides, but continued to hide the aggressors such that it was impossible to attack the source. Shouting to move passed the curtains, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan worked towards one edge of the room, dodging red hot bullets in all directions. Keeping low, they maneuvered their blades in a keen sequence, careful not to deflect fire towards the others. Finally slipping between the two folds of curtains, they crouched low as the fire pinged above their heads. Blinded, the two Jedi could now neither see the guards or the others left inside the circle.   
  
Suddenly all fire was concentrated one the area where they slipped through the curtains. Flying out in separate directions, they ran about the ring, stirring the air as they rushed passed. Realizing they were drawing more attention, they spread out flat, stilling all fire.   
  
*  
  
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and looked inward. Although he was blinded from the snowy shimmer of the curtains, he used the Force to seek out his target. The guards must be higher than eye level, he surmised, or they would have fired upon each other around the room. Reaching out with the Force, he felt for the location of the nearest guard. There was one directly above him, and fortunately, the well armed guard had no knowledge of him so nearby, and Obi-Wan only just realized, they had been shooting blindly all along!  
  
Slowly, he stood and pulled forth Elia's electro-dagger that he had taken from Anisse. Jumping upwards, where they would least expect an attack, Obi-Wan rose above the length of the curtains and threw the blade directly at the guard, who stood on a wall mounted pedestal with a heavy loaded blaster. Fire rang out as it followed the rustling of the curtain and he landed a number of panels away. Within seconds, another barrage of bullets began and he slipped to the other side where guards hid in the elevated nooks.   
  
*  
  
Meanwhile Qui-Gon, too, had penetrated the second layer and drawn numerous fire, that he was now able to deflect back into the shooters. One by one, they ran about the circle and picked off the urchin by deflecting their own blaster fire and slashing with their lightsabers.  
  
*  
  
Trapped beneath Trafalgar's weight, Elia squirmed for escape, and eventually righted herself, even as more fire exploded about them in a display of flickering light that sparked about the energy curtains. Forced to lie down longways to avoid the random fire that rained horizontally about the room, Trafalgar struggled to keep her down, and keep hold of the only weapon between them.   
  
But Fianat had come round, and sitting back against the throne with the Jedi master's head in her lap, she held the point of a needle at Li'sarrow's throat, just as she had done only hours before.  
  
Now that the onslaught of blaster fire had dwindled, the air buzzed with silence. Pushing aside the curtains, the Jedi mirage before them, and Fianat looked to them nervously, and then back to Trafalgar. She would not fail again. Stop right there! she screeched as Trafalgar ripped the blaster from Elia's hand and pointed it at her forehead.   
  
It was over in an instant.  
  
  
Master Li'sarrow withdrew her violet lightsaber from beneath her folds, decapitating the young woman in one sure move. At the same moment, Obi-Wan slid Elia's dagger across the floor where she picked it up and jabbed it into Trafalgar's chest. Thrusting him off, he fell aside. Gasping for air, he crumpled to his back, clutching his chest in agony. As the Jedi went to help Li'sarrow, Healer Elia hovered over the Mandalorian on hands and knees and whispered prophetically in his ear, You are going to die. I can heal you.  
  
The man remembered the Resurrected Thaum, and cursed himself with bloody cough. What you do want?  
  
Her eyes were cold and unfeeling as he suffered there beneath her. I want you to honor the treaty and free the slaves. He began to cry with fear. Alright, alright. His face was blanched with death, but she went on as if his suffering wasn't enough, and he must look down at the valley below. If you ever clone a Simmian, I will reveal all I saw at Curel. Do we agree?   
  
He whimpered a yes through suffocating gasps, and she willingly laid her hands on his chest. Li'sarrow joined her, and the wound miraculously mended and his breathing evened. As he fell into a deep healing sleep, she once again whispered in his ear, You will keep our bargain.   
  
And that was the last word she would ever speak with Trafalgar.  
  
  
Sliding over to Li'sarrow, Elia fell down on top of her, and the older woman folded her in her arms, relieved. When they finally pulled away from one another, they looked around the room to see the results.   
  
The guards bodies lingered behind the panelling and the place reeked of death. Fianat's body lay drizzling like the beheaded Gorgon, and next to it, her pristine violet eyes threatening to spring open, turning one to stone.  
  
Qui-Gon watched Traflagar climb to his feet and followed him out of the room as the three others held behind and waited for directions.   
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Later:  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
Qui-Gon obtained a shuttle with the General's blessings, and Chancellor Palpatine promised to explore the mess in further detail when the Occupation was over, but the Jedi knew it would be long forgotten by that time. Nonetheless, the four of them returned to Coruscant and reported to the Council as was their duty.   
  
The reunion with the healers brought much happiness, but their voices were tinged with a sadness at their losses. Overall, the seven healers would now pursue different paths, which they hoped would one day cross again.   
  
The Jedi continued to issue forth justice in the galaxy, though their days were numbered.   
  
And Senator Palpatine and his minions, well, we all know the end to that story.   
  
What would she say if she were ever given that opportunity? The Temple received them graciously as was expected, but found it difficult to face prying eyes and innocent inquiries. Even reuniting with her Healers seemed out of mind now that they were not in their home on Bonadan.   
  
But what control did she have of that? It was time to relinquish the illusion that her influence mattered in any way. Perhaps in the end she was able to undo her disavowment of Li'sarrow, but the Simmians were a fight too big for her. She would have to live with the faith -and the doubt- that Trafalgar would honor her demand. In the meantime, she would have to give up.  
  
Yes, the General was more than cooperative, Qui-Gon affirmed to the Jedi Council in debriefing.   
  
Good. The treaty has been signed by the Chancellor. Bonadan will give up its live labor, but the process may take many decades. We are not likely to see it our lifetime, Mace Windu admitted to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, or even Yoda's, he threw in doubtfully.   
  
Good news though, we have. Dismantled has been this Benzoic Mechanism, thanks to Senator Mon Mothma. Rallied a great deal of support she has, and earned much respect in turn. Thank her we do.  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed with pride. Mon Mothma had great heart, and it pleased him to see her efforts rewarded. He must pass on the congratulations himself.   
  
As they exited the Council chamber, Qui-Gon also felt a congratulation was due to his padawan. How do you feel now that this has been turned over to the Senate to resolve?  
  
I fear Bonadan will continue to be a challenge to the Republic for some time.  
  
They paused at the skywalk that overlooks the city. That is no longer up to you. You have done well. It should be reward enough that the abolitionists have made a positive step forward.  
  
I thought you said our opinions don't matter?  
  
After seeing the suffering Simmians in the clinic, I, too, was moved. As Jedi, we may not be able to express our opinion, but we certainly have them.  
  
I spent so much effort concealing my opinions that sometimes I feel like they don't matter.  
  
He simply nodded. Those who do not directly express what they feel can be misinterpreted-  
  
-Or appear cold, he finished, obviously refering to a specific instance, though his master wasn't sure which one.   
  
Moments later, Healer Elia strode up with Master Li'sarrow. They bowed at each other formally, though it seemed rather silly to Elia after all they had been through.   
  
Your turn? Obi-Wan nodded in the direction of the Council chamber. They both nodded but Li'sarrow answered for both of them.   
  
Hopefully we will be able to put this behind us and move on, the comment was directed more towards the young healer than in response to the Jedi. Li'sarrow hooked a gentle palm along her shoulder and lead her away.  
  
But before they moved passed, Qui-Gon reached out with the Bondani greeting, and Elia smiled as she touched the top of his hand. Obi-Wan did the same. Move on, but not forget, she thought to herself as she entered the Council chamber.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Later that day:  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
  
Landryth, huh?  
  
Thaum smiled, noting her hesitation and anxiety. Don't worry, I'll be fine.  
  
You're leaving tomorrow?   
  
He nodded enthusiastically and swung his hands out from side to side before sitting down next to her. I promise to write.  
  
How will you know where to send it? Even I don't know where I'm going, she rolled her eyes to see Obi-Wan standing in her doorframe.  
  
Thaum kissed her on the cheek and nuzzled her nose before turning to leave. he gasped, and smiled. I'm off for Landryth.  
  
I heard. Congratulations. It's an honor to be chosen to attend such a prestigious school. They touched hands in the Bondani fashion, and Thaum waved his good-bye to Elia before dashing out the door. I'll see you off tomorrow! she yelled after him, and stood to greet Obi-Wan.  
  
Her eyes traveled the small space of the temp room before landing on Obi-Wan. I brought you something, he said.  
  
She smiled and squinted her eyes at him as if suspecting somekind of silly joke. But when he pulled his hand from his pocket, he had a small package of seeds.  
  
  
  
Where ever you go, it will be like home.  
  
She didn't say anything but stood staring at the package.  
  
I hope it's the right kind. He moved closer for a better look at her expression, but when she lifted her head, she could do no more than step into his arms.  
  
  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
Letter from Dathomir  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
Dear Master Li'sarrow,  
  
I am hidden away safely on a remote corner of my homeworld, Dathomir. It has been a difficult transition since I have had to say good-bye.   
  
Word has come to me that my theory was true. The New Republican Army did indeed fire upon the clinic as they sped away from Bonadan, Healers in tow. They claimed it was simply Riot Control. Ironically, many more deaths occurred at the Republic's hands, than at M'ztka's. I can't think what prevented me from murdering that abomination, but I am now quite thankful that his blood is not upon my blade. That was not my path.   
  
Every now and again I hear that Bonadan is regrowing, to the benefit or detriment of Trafalgar, depending on the reporter. The Treaty of Walkar is being honored though, and that is truly the most I could have asked for.   
  
As for myself, I have settled into a quiet place of my life. The woods are my home, and it is a rare occasion that I have visitors other than the village ill, who seem to regard me as a witch doctor. The science based galaxy from which I have flown does not understand these people as I do. They are my people.   
I know I will not stay here forever, but it has taken some time to process or realize who I have become. As much as I may have wanted to save the Simmians from slavery, I could not succeed until I relinquished the fact that it was not truly my decision. Something far greater than me was a at work, guiding me, though I struggled to fight it.   
  
No matter, for what I've learned, and sincerely believe, is that you can't save those who don't want to be saved. As much as Obi-Wan may have wanted, I wouldn't be saved because I lacked the courage to change. While they say no honor is lost in admitting defeat, where should I have gone, tail tucked between my legs, in the cold shadow of myself?   
I now face a cold winter ahead, and death, but be assured that spring awaits, and with it, Resurrection.   
  
Sincerely,  
Elia  
  
P.S. I've included letters for Thaum, and the other healers, and Obi-Wan. Please see to it that they are received.  
  
  
  
  
+++++THE END+++++  
  
  
  
  
  
+++++AFTERWARD+++++  
  
  
This story is intended to reflect the Emperor's slow infiltration of the Republic that leads to its demise. A wise man, Senator Palpatine slowly built up reserves of wealth and power throughout the galaxy. Exercising his influence as a Sith Underlord, he was able to acquire cloning technology, that later enabled him to take over the galaxy. Not only was he creating an army of super soldiers, which would later evolve into Storm Troopers, but he also gathered the Republic's own forces against themselves when he reinstated the New Republican Army. Like all great emperors, he valued the importance of loyal leaders who would maintain his influence while he was away conquering more territory. In this case, Trafalgar was chosen because of his LACK of ambition and personal drive, making the character easy to control. By investing a great deal of his own wealth back into these at risk planets, he was also able to gain economic control of their systems while appearing a savior to the public. Overall, Lord Sidious' power spread like a virus over the Republic weakening it from the insides, at which time, he wiped out the last remnants of the Old Republic and crowned himself Supreme Emperor.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Thanks for sticking it out until the end! I hope it was worth the ride.   
  
Please read and review. I appreciate all constructive feedback.  
  
+Merlynne  
  
  
  



End file.
